In the Hands of the Gods
by JustaSmallTownSquirrel
Summary: A young human girl with an Asgard past is summoned back to the realm of the gods to once and for all face the truth of who she is and take a stand against the enemies of Asgard...and a certain god's son.
1. Prologue

Something was wrong. Angelia Langeis hadn't felt it so surely since returning home four years before. It was a bigger feeling than the time she'd been out hunting and felt a prick of unease. That was the day she'd come home to find the cabin ablaze. Today she had woken feeling the same unease, but it was far more than a little prick. The feeling hadn't gone away all morning, though she'd done her best to go about her chores as normal.

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that when the small tap came at the window, she jumped up into a well-practiced stance of defense, only to find there was an abnormally small, plain sparrow tapping his beak against the pane.

Letting out a held breath, Angelia crossed the room to the window and slid open the window. The bird fluttered in as he had done almost daily since joining her long ago. It was only in the past week that her winged companion had mysteriously disappeared. She momentarily forgot her anxiety as she greeted the sparrow, busying herself with setting out a mixture of seeds on his usual perch. The bird nattered happily to her and fluffed its feathers, settling in comfortably.

It wasn't until the flurry of movement drew her eyes towards his shifting feet that she noticed the roll of paper curling around his leg.

Gently she unraveled the tiny scroll and unrolled it.

_Trouble in A_

_Meet T in N_

_Tell No One_

There was no doubt who the message had come from.

Angelia had to sit for a moment, thinking back to a time when this message never would have been necessary. She tried not to dwell on the past, knowing she couldn't change the events that had swept her up in a fantastical whirlwind that had always been an unwelcome presence in the back of her mind, events that had started on her seventeenth birthday, and ended, she had thought, with her eighteenth.

No doubt it was her self-appointed guardian summoning her, though why he would call on her now, when she was finally settling back into a normal life she couldn't guess. One thing she knew, she didn't owe him anything and if she was to comply with the directions mandated in the note, it would only be to put the aggravating man in his place so she could move on.

Later that afternoon, Angelia, trailed at a distance by the little bird, hiked to the nearest town. She took a small table at the rundown diner and ordered a small meal before excusing herself to use the phone. She let out a breath as someone answered on the other end.

"Yes," she said, keeping her voice light, "I'd like to purchase a ticket to New York. The soonest flight you have."


	2. Chapter One

Less than twenty-four hours later, I land in New York City. The flight stewardess had given me the first hint of what was to come when we landed when she mentioned how unusual it was for the city to be accepting incoming traffic. It seemed that most of the passengers were CIA agents of a sort that boarded from Washington while the plane was laid over, and it was only because these men needed to get to the scene that the plane was granted access to the runway.

I didn't bring any luggage so I leave the throng of agents at the conveyor and venture out into the normally hectic city. It's strange to me, the eerie silence coating the city. Even stranger is the black smoke billowing across the skyline, drawing my attention to the ruins I stand in front of.

The entire area is unrecognizable. Cars litter the streets, many smashed and overturned. The buildings beyond were similarly destroyed. Many looked as though holes had been blasted through the center of the infrastructure, leaving half-buildings still standing. Many others had towered over and lay blocking the streets, smoke rising from the rubble.

The note hadn't said exactly where I was to meet up with '_T_' but thankfully another talent kicks in and I can feel the pulsing feeling in my brain, like a painless headache that doubles as a homing device. I know where I need to go.

As I pick through the mess, stopping occasionally to help others lift vehicles and beams off of survivors, the feeling begins to intensify, leading me through the broken city just as a hound's nose leads him to his prey.

I don't realize how out of touch I've become with my abilities until I can see my target clearly ahead. Once upon a time I would have known exactly where he stood long before I could see him.

His friends are hanging around congratulating him, no doubt having been the ones to save the rest of the world from New York's fate. I've heard of them on the news, and talked about in hushed corners but never have I seen them up close. The Avengers, they have been christened. If the man in chains is any indicator, they have indeed avenged the city.

He sees me before I call out, obviously more in touch with his senses than I am. I mentally kick myself for being so lax on mental training.

"Angel," he nods, looking as stunning as ever, even through a sheen of sweat. I've never seen a god sweat before and honestly hadn't even thought it to be a possibility. Who'd have thunk it?

"Thor," I nod back, uneasily avoiding his gaze. When our eyes do meet, I know it isn't just me who remembers the past, and it's not just me who hurts. It is times like this I wish that I couldn't read so far into emotions. The sudden raw ache takes me by surprise and I look around awkwardly at the city.

"I was told to meet you in New York," I say. Chances are he wasn't briefed on this. Odin rarely saw fit to fully inform everyone or anyone. "I don't really know that that was an accurate term for this place. It's even more of a disaster now."

"You just about missed me," he says, shifting his weight. "I assume father wanted you to be part of the council tomorrow. Rightfully, you _do_ have a chair. He will want all voices to be heard at Asgard's greatest trial to date." He pauses and gives the man at his side a hard look. "It's not every century we must decide whether to execute one of our own."

I look at the other man. Tall, though slightly shorter than Thor, the second man shares no resemblance with the man holding him securely in place. Green eyes, black hair, and a demeaning smile, it seems to me as though he is trying to unsettle me. I can't read his feelings, and that realization unsettles me more than his gaze.

There is only one other being I've met who I cannot read, and instantly I know who he is, though we've never met nor been introduced.

"Loki," I say, voicing the realization aloud. "I should have known it would be you behind such chaos."

"I don't believe we know each other," he replies coldly. "Therefor, you know nothing."

"Angelia, Loki. Loki, Angelia," Thor says, jerking his brother's arm for emphasis. "Now that we all know each other, if you don't mind, Father is expecting us."

"I mind," Loki interjects. With another jerk, Thor's meaning is clear and Loki squares his jaw in silence.

Thor throws up a portal in front of us and motions for me to go ahead. "Ladies first," he says, and so I take a breath and step back through into a life I prayed years ago to leave behind.


	3. Chapter Two

A quick flash of blinding white light later and I am standing in another realm, blinking stupidly as I clear the light spots from my vision. I am in a dark, earthy smelling room, facing a man adorned in golden armour.

"Greetings, Gatekeeper," I say, bowing in respect.

"Ah," he says, spreading his arms in welcome. "The Angel of Asgard has at last returned. I believe the land has just increased in happiness and beauty."

I look around, taking in the dark surroundings. Last time I travelled through the Portal it was located in a golden dome out past the city boundaries. "Have you misplaced the dome?"

"The old Portal is gone," he replies, his voice heavier. "The sons of Odin battled there and it was lost."

Another flash of white light from behind me cuts off the conversation, as we are joined by Thor and Loki.

"Loki Laufeyson," he says, with a much more menacing voice. "The traitor of Asgard has returned far too soon for my liking. 'Tis good to see you well, Thor Odinson of the Asgard Great."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry, my dear Gatekeeper," Loki responds, looking around in disdain. "If the council is to have their way, this may very well be the last you'll ever see of me. Would you like to take a moment to burn this memory in your mind to keep forevermore?"

Ignoring him, the Gatekeeper motions down the tunnel. "You will find this leads straight to your destination. May your hammer stay strong."

Thor, too, gives a slight bow out of deference and we move on ahead. I step back and allow Thor to bring Loki through first, the tunnel being too narrow for three of us to fit side by side.

The short walk is filled only with silence. I think to make conversation with Thor, but can think of nothing to discuss with Loki so close. I wonder what exactly Loki meant when he mentioned the council having their way. Was there to be a trial of sorts? I'd never heard of the gods trying one of their own, no matter the crime. Perhaps this one had pushed the others over the edge.

I stumble on the uneven ground, my mind in the clouds. Focussing less on thinking and more on walking, we continue up the sloping path. It seems like much more time has passed than expected when our trio comes to a stop in front of a double set of iron doors.

Thor grips his hammer in one hand and raps lighty against the door. Instantly, the metal alights with three trails of colour; green, red and blue, before it swings open to our destination; the great hall where much of the city is gathered to witness the return of two sons.

As Thor drags Loki into the room, the crowd begins to buzz, people recognizing both their golden boy and his hated counterpart.

"Enough." The command isn't yelled but carries across the room as it amplifies from the throne at the front of the throng. "I am glad to see you well," he says, and even I, hidden back in the shadows, can tell he only speaks to one.

"It is good to be home," Thor replies, bowing deeply in reverence.

"I am sure I've told you before, dear girl, it is impolite to dwell in doorways."

I step forward, furious with myself as I feel my face flush under the scrutiny of the room. Thor raises a hand and grips my shoulder for a brief moment, and with that show of solidarity, I feel myself calming. "My King," I say, resorting to a deep curtsy in front of the nobility. "I am glad to see you well." The token greeting is approved by the crowd, though it is not in the least sense original.

"Welcome home, Lady Odetta Angelia Rosa Langeis," he says, his tone soft and commanding as it draws out every syllable. "Asgard welcomes you back with warmth and light."

King Odin doesn't acknowledge the other man who has just entered the room and speaks again, directing his attention to myself and Thor.

"Tomorrow at dawn," he starts, his gaze flickering to Loki. I flicker my gaze too and see he does not meet the King's eyes, instead choosing to study the floor. Again I try to read his feelings but I find nothing. "Tomorrow at dawn, council will commence in the trial of Loki Laufeyson. With the last o the council members now present we can continue with the trial as planned."

A muscle in Loki's jaw ticked and I wonder if he fears the decision the council will come to. I have been picking up on whispers of execution since entering the room, and surely Loki hasn't been able to block out every voice.

"I would advise the council members to retire early this eve in preparation for tomorrow's events." He nods towards us again. "Naslund and Riel will show you to your chambers."

One of the King's Men, who had been standing near to the king stepped forward. "If you'll come with me, my lady, I will show you to your chambers."

Naslund, I remember, nodding my assent. He had been a guard last time I was here and was instrumental in much of my training. I follow him from the room with only a backward glance to Thor, as if to confirm I was free to leave. Though we hadn't seen each other in over four years, I found it easy to slip back into old habits. Thor nods in understanding and turns to face his father.

I don't hear anything else that is said in the banquet hall as I follow Naslund down a wide hall and up several flights of stairs.

"I had the liberty of choosing your rooms," he says, pausing at the top of all the stairs, "and I seem to remember a certain young woman's affinity for places high off the ground."

Without waiting for any form of reply, he opens the heavy wooden door to reveal a classic sitting room, complete with a large window and an already lit fireplace. I make my way straight across the room for the window and the view absolutely takes my breath away.

Far below I can see a section of the castle, as well as another turret off a little ways to the west, though it doesn't stand as high as this one. Beyond the stone walls, though, as high up as I am I can see leagues and leagues of the countryside, all the way until the faraway mountains obstruct my view. I am struck with a sudden feeling of homesickness as I take in the mountain scenery. It's like having home within my grasp yet I am unable to return.

"It is good to have you back, Princess," Naslund says with a happy smile. "The boys just don't have the same effect on the King. Don't get me wrong, Thor is everything Odin could ask for in a son, but trust me, as a father I should know, no one sings to a father's heart quite like a daughter."

"Thank you for your words, and your thoughtfulness in choosing my rooms, I am quite pleased," I say, setting my jaw. "But you of all here should know I will not take that title. Lady, yes, okay, but never Princess. And as Odin is not my father in any way, shape or form, I am sure I do not have the effect on him that your daughter has on you. Odin and I have an entirely different agreement."

"Well, however he feels, it was a wise choice on his part to bring you here. You have always had a fair eye for judgment. And maybe a sisterly feel is all Loki needs, eh?"

"I am _not_ at all sisterly towards the traitor. In case you didn't notice, he just tried to take over my native planet. I will have nothing to do with that sorry excuse for a god."

Naslund gives a little shrug, as if to agree. "Can't blame you for that, I guess. Council meets at sunrise tomorrow so it's best to wait until tomorrow evening to meet with old friends, should you decide to socialize." He pauses in the doorway. "Oh, and as for Thor," he adds, "I know you two, at least, get along. I made sure he has rooms within the same tower. He is two flights down the stairs, should you like to visit at some juncture."

"Thank you, Naslund," I say as he swings the door shut.


	4. Chapter Three

I awake about an hour before dawn and take my time getting ready. It's best for all involved if I am given time alone to properly wake up in the morning. I don a plain gray cotton dress with eye-catching cerulean blue designs and begin to comb out my hair, long golden locks so full of tangles it brings tears to my eyes. My father's hair was pin-straight, and so I've always cursed my mother for the curls, whoever she is.

Finished torturing myself for now, I swipe on some makeup and slip on my black leather boots. I don't see any other shoes to wear and assume I can wear what I want.

I am staring out the window when the knock sounds on the door. "Come in," I call, rising to my feet. Both Naslund and Thor stand in the doorway, dressed in court finery. I marvel at how Thor's colours of red and gold compliment his features. "Good morning." The two repeat the greeting before Naslund clears his throat.

"The trial is to start shortly," Naslund says. "I will escort you down to the great hall."

I move to join the small group and as I get closer, I realize that Thor looks unusually pale. I look away, embarrassed to so easily read his emotions. Of course he is torn; even I know that he and Loki were inseparable as children.

I walk alongside the two men and we retrace yesterday's steps until we are once again in the great hall. Many other gods are seated around the throne; to All-father Odin's right is Frigga, Goddess-Queen. Several other chairs close to Odin are already filled, and I recognize most of the faces to be Odin's other children: Tyr, Hermod, Balder, Vidar, and two empty chairs, presumably for Thor and, at one time, Loki.

Other familiar faces are nearby. People who knew Loki all his life, like the Warriors Three and Sif are present, as well as many of the other high-ranking gods and goddesses.

Upon our entrance, Odin addresses us. "Thor, your place is as always. Lady Angelia, you may take the seat next to him. Hurry, now, so we may begin."

I follow Thor up the aisle and take the allotted seat in the heart of the jury. I am surprised at my prominent position; the closer to the throne you sit, the higher your rank. As a human, I wasn't even expecting to be within hearing distance of the King.

"We are gathered here today to decide the fate of one of our own," he starts somberly. "Loki Laufeyson is to be tried for treason. In taking the throne in Jotunheim and leading an army against the Midland realm, the man in question has gone against Asgard's rule of peace and thusly committed an unprecedented act of treason. All will have the chance to voice their opinions, before court adjourns for the day. Three days from now, all in this room will meet again to vote on the final verdict. All in agreement?"

Choruses of 'aye' from around the room settle the schedule.

"Good," the All-father says, finalizing the choice. "As ruler of Asgard I will speak first. Though it grieves me to cast judgment upon one I have raised as my own, in my mind the consequence of treason is the same as always. I would suggest execution for treason, as we've decided for many before today."

The crowd murmurs, some in surprise but most in agreement and respect for the king's opinion. The voices around the room begin to voice their assent. "Even a prince must be held to the same standards as the people. I concur," Naslund says. Odin's other sons one by one murmur assent.

When it comes time for Thor to speak, he nods and clears his throat, though he says nothing. Many others in the crowd speak up and as I listen I am surprised to find myself getting angry. I don't notice when the room falls silent and Odin's voice rings across the room.

"Lady Angelia," he says patiently. I jump, jolted out of my thoughts by his booming voice. "Perhaps you would like to have a say? The look on your face would suggest so."

Sure enough, I realized my mouth was set in a thin line, matching the way my eyes had narrowed. I open my mouth to tell him I knew too little to argue with the council, but I find I can't simply agree with the rest. I stand and turn away from the crowd, instead facing Odin.

"Little as it may mean," I say, looking up into the King's good eye. "I do have an opinion." I hold his gaze in a challenge, as if to prove that no human could truly count in a court of gods. When he doesn't reply, I turn and face the room.

"I believe you are all wrong." I pause and can hear my own heart beating. Not a single person moves in the entire room. I push on, knowing that if I stop talking I won't have the courage to continue.

"You are willing to kill one of your own because he turned out exactly as you raised him to be. His whole life, every single one of you in this room, in some way, treated him as an outsider. Every time you judged him for what he is – and yes, I have been doing my homework, he is no more a god than I – every time you treated him with a caution you didn't treat Thor with, you brought him closer to this day. Tell me, Asgard, what happens when a child grows up being treated differently than other children, judged more harshly, regarded with any number of emotions you felt about the little snow giant growing up among princes – fear, disdain, indifference, you brought him closer to this day. A child who is never given love – the unconditional love you all were incapable of – will never love unconditionally.

"You all rewarded Thor's good behavior and looked upon Loki's with distrust. After all, how could a frost giant grow up good? Does a frost giant who has grown up believing itself to be part of another race, raised by people who love it really adapt the same violent tendencies as its kin? I don't believe that is the case. Behavior is learned, not inherited." I turn back to face the All-father.

"I've seen much the same thing happen back home. Parents neglect and abuse children and the children grow up troubled and become murderers, or join gangs. Is it the fault of the child or the parent? If a dog is abused as a puppy is it at fault for attacking the very people who beat it once it grows strong enough to defend itself? Where is the blame to be laid?"

"I don't know what the right decision here is," I say, flicking my gaze across Loki's adoptive brothers. "Only that to euthanize the beaten dog is the most sick, twisted kind of mockery there is."

I sit back down quickly, heart racing. I, an insignificant human who wasn't even around to witness most of the relevant events in the past, have just defied Odin by challenging his decision. And then called that same decision sick and twisted.

The dead silence in the room doesn't last long, and soon everyone is trying to yell over each other, voices becoming louder and angrier until I cannot even hear myself think. I am surprised that the King hasn't interjected, until a loud clang rings through the air, the force of it vibrating every chair in the room. The sound cuts across the arguing and silences the room, although my inferior human ears are momentarily deafened as the vibrations wreak havoc on their way through my eardrums. I look around, thankful my eyes aren't affected by the clamour, and see at once that the horrible clanging was caused by Thor's hammer meeting the arm of his chair, effectively cleaving it from the golden seat. I meet Thor's gaze. He looks torn, likely because he believes death to be his brother's fate but seeing the small chance for another outcome.

It is only seconds before I begin to hear Odin's voice, sovereign among the jury. A few still murmur in the back but all eyes are on their King.

"And so, the same decision stands. Three days from now we will ajourn and make a decision. Any other suggestions for a sentence will be heard by me before that date."

With that, he stands and exits the room, followed closely by Frigga. The rest of the room erupts in chaotic arguing again and I make my escape, fearing many in the crowd will be, to say the least, angry with my rebellious words.

I move purposely down the corridor and out into the fresh air. Planning on llsing myself in the city's splendour, I am surprised to feel a feminine hand clamp down on my shoulder.

"I didn't think you would ever show your face in the realm again," she says. Hearing the voice, I tense and turn around to face her.

"I didn't think you'd be the first to welcome me back, either. Yet here we are."

Sif laughs in derision, shaking loose her silky black hair. "I'd hardly call it a welcome."


	5. Chapter Four

"Well," I say, stepping back far enough for her hand to slide off my shoulder. "That's hardly the way to speak to a guest."

"Puh-lease," she enunciates. The way she keeps shaking her hair only serves to make me self-conscious of my own blonde curls with the tendency to tangle into a childish mess. Her own locks were as different as possible, blessing her with pin-straight hair and a colour opposite of mine and much more alluring. "You're no guest, just another Asgardian parading as something else. No wonder you said all you did today. You're no different from him, _Angel_."

"You don't know what you're talking about," I retort. I take a step, intending to walk away.

"Hey!" Sif shouts, stopping me in my tracks. "I want to know. What made you stand up for Loki back there? You never even met him before yesterday."

I pause just long enough to reply over my shoulder. "Maybe not," I reply, "but I've met every two-faced person in that room."

I don't notice until I turn left two streets later that Sif has followed in silence, only a couple paces behind.

"What do I have to do to get you to leave me alone?" I ask, eyes still on the road.

"You're the one who thought I should treat guests better."

"And I thought you didn't think I was a guest, so you can head back to the castle with a clear conscience." I nudge my way through a throng of people blocking the street.

"You're not," she agrees, pulling up alongside me. "Technically, you're as much a member of the royal family as Loki is. Was. When your weakling human father died, for whatever reason he had, Odin adopted you into the family."

"Well, I didn't adopt them as my family," I retort. "As soon as I was of age, I left. I swore then and I'll swear now that I don't belong here in Fantasyland."

"I always knew we would agree on something someday. Although I thought after the way you threw yourself into our politics today you might've changed your mind."

"All I did was state an opinion when asked. I didn't choose to become involved."

"Maybe you couldn't help it, but you chose to offer a different perspective. Agreeing with a death sentence would have been choosing not to become involved. I think some part of you knows you're as much a part of Asgard as anyone."

I turn to face her with an argument, only to find she's disappeared. I hate how she always has to have the last word.

Finally alone, I turn again and the river comes into view. Where there once was a large golden dome holding the Portal, the skyline is now clear, blue as far as the eye can see.

I walk down the path across the water, so lost in thought that I am surprised when I reach the end of the road. Unwilling to return to the castle just yet, I sit on the jagged edge of the road, the end of the line. Hours pass, and the sun makes its way across the broad expanse of sky, readying itself to settle in the sky beyond the waterfall. I stretch my arms feel my elbow graze something.

"How long have you been sitting here?" I ask, turning to see Thor sitting on the edge beside me.

"Long enough for you to have noticed, I'd think," he replies, squinting his eyes in response to the setting rays of sunlight. "You haven't been working with your abilities in Midgard, have you?"

"I've been busy with other training," I say defensively. "To fend for oneself in the mountains, you must be strong. Something you should know I've always struggled with."

"Everyone struggles with something," he says sagely. "The trick is to improve your skills and work on your weaknesses at the same time. Just as with everything, there needs to be balance."

"Well then it will be interesting to see how your father balances the trial, with such different choices," I say, kicking my legs back and forth like a child.

"Not everything balances," he admits. "In a perfect world it would, but even the world of the gods has it imperfections."

"I didn't expect all the arguing back there," I say. Considering every person in that room had vied for an execution moments before I spoke, it came as a surprise that they were shouting at each other and not just at me.

"You have a way of appealing to people," he replies. "You make people see that there's not just black and white, but gray as well."

"Sometimes it takes someone on the outside to see the bigger picture."

Thor makes an almost tortured sound and clears his throat. "Even I couldn't see the other choice. His own brother, and I would have sentenced him to death. I only wish that I could have had your words. Maybe then I wouldn't feel like such a monster." His words are gruff with emotion, and I can literally feel the guilt rolling off of him in waves.

"It's not like he's completely innocent here," I say, scooting a little closer to him. We'd been so close years ago when I was first brought here. I didn't like the awkward rift that had grown so quickly. "No one told him to destroy New York, or kill what was probably hundreds of innocent people. He has to answer for that, too."

"I've missed this," he says suddenly, changing the subject. "There's no one better to bounce thoughts off of."

"And here I was expecting you to say, 'there's no one easier to bounce punches off of.'" I say it lightly, not wanting to admit to him that I'd missed this, too.

"If that's how you feel, you do have the next two days of waiting around ahead of you," he says, once he stops laughing. "I could torture you with training if you have nothing better to do."

I groan, though more for show than anything. I knew that for all my training in the mountains, I had progressed much faster among the gods. "If I must," I say, forcing a sigh.

"Best be ready at dawn tomorrow, then. I start early." Thor stands, shaking out his red cape with a brisque movement in his shoulders.

This time, I groan for real.

I sit there watching until the sun dips out of sight, then make my way back through the city by the last faint glow in the western sky. I walk past the banquet hall, where people are still feasting and climb the stairs up to my room.

For no reason other than curiosity, I flick my wrist to see if I still possess the power to do so. I am well-satisfied when the doorknob turns on its own and the door swings open to allow me through.


	6. Chapter Five

I dress the next morning more comfortably; silver and black workout gear, tailored especially for me in what I am starting to believe is regarded as my signature blue.

I am not feeling good-natured towards Thor when I meet him out in the yard as the sun comes up. I amuse myself thinking this to be an 'ungodly' hour to be up.

"Well then," he says, coming to a halt just ahead of me, dressed in the usual red and gold. "You have two options today. If you like them both, do not fret. The other lesson I will save for tomorrow. Would you rather start with some endurance training or delve a little into the techniques of battle?"

"Techniques sound a little less strenuous," I say, knowing well that endurance to a god could kill a mere human.

He feints a strike at me without another word and I sloppily move to block it, having been caught off-guard. Abandoning his first move he ducks low, aiming for my midsection. I am too offset by his range of motion that I miss my next block entirely and with a thud I land on my backside, wind sucked out of my lungs. I lay on the ground, gasping pitifully, as he extends a hand to help me up.

"You may need more than a mere day," he chuckles.

Yet for all his talk, the answering jab makes its way to the intended target.

The sun has set by the time Thor lets me retire to my rooms and I am so sore I don't think I'll make it up all the stairs. I don't even let myself think about how I'll feel tomorrow when Thor puts me through whatever he's cooked up.

I enter the hall with my head drooping towards the ground and don't bother to keep alert for nearby people. As a result, I find myself plowing right into Queen Frigga, like an incompetent oaf. "My Lady, I say, steadying her arm before I fall into a deep, apologetic curtsy, "Forgive me, I've been careless and I am shamed by my carelessness."

"It is quite alright," she says, placing a hand on my shoulder. "Truth be told, I have done that very thing before. I must say, Lady Angelia of Midgard, it is a delight for us to once again host you here in the castle. We would be pleased if you would stay past the end of the trial, though we do not wish to pressure you."

"You don't have to call me by a title, my Queen," I reply, rising (thankfully) gracefully to my feet. "Just Angelia is fine. As for staying, I don't know how long it will be before I go home, but I will very much enjoy my time here knowing that it pleases your Grace."

She smiles and I notice once again, as I always do, that her hair, as curly as mine, seems to stay firmly in place, where mine is no doubt reaching for the sky in loose, wispy tendrils as we speak. "I noticed you did not attend dinner last night. I just want to ensure that you know you are more than welcome to join us."

"Thank you," I say simply. Frigga is already making her way towards the courtyard doors when I call after her. "Your Grace!" She stops and turns, the tilt of her head questioning me. "I was just wondering," I begin, feeling foolish for calling her back over such a trivial manner. "I was wondering, how _do_ you keep your hair so perfectly in place?"

"'Tis a serum, made from the golden apples of Idunn, made by my own hands. It takes a very personal balance to work well," she answers.

I hobble back to my room with no further interruptions, and after eating a meal brought up by one of Naslund's underlings, I fall asleep immediately, into a dark, dreamless subconscious state.

"Do not think I am such an easy taskmaster that you may spend the morning in bed."

Thor's voice, so close to my ear startles me awake and I jump into a sitting position, narrowly missing his head with my own. I clutch the blanket close, remembering in time that I chose to wear nothing to bed last night.

"Jesus!" I swear, shooting Thor my darkest look. "The sun must have risen all of ten minutes ago. Give me a break!"

"If you are not standing beside me in the yard in fifteen, Angel, I will work you till sunset again!"

"It's a fifteen minute jog out there, how am I supposed to manage to dress?" I ask, exasperated.

"Fourteen, now," he says, shutting the door behind him.

Letting loose a string of expletives, I jump out of bed and quickly dress in the same style of gear as yesterday. I don't attempt to brush through my mass of hair unless it's wet, and since I don't have time to shower I put it up in what passes as a messy bun, tendrils that I don't have time to round up fly loose.

I slip on my boots as I open the door and take off down the stairs, flying down two at a time with one hand on the golden wall for balance. Early visitors to the castle, as well as a couple of Thor's brothers, watch me in puzzlement as I fly down the halls, skittering around corners.

By the time I reach Thor, I have a hitch in my breathing and would gladly call that endurance training, but he glances at the sun's position.

"Unfortunately for you," he says, "You are late. Had you been here three minutes earlier, you might've had some spare time this evening."

"If you had been reasonable, I would have spare time," I correct, taking a deep breath.

"If you would have been out here at sunrise as planned, we would not be standing here arguing. I have set up a track through the city. Sif went out and this morning and marked checkpoints with magic. If you keep your mind open as you should, there will be no problem in meeting me back here in an hour."

I should have known it would be more than a simple run. The first time I came to Asgard, Odin bestowed me with several gifts of talents, such as an enhanced ability to read the emotions of others, as well as the ability to track trails of magic. Thor is the only other one who knows, and I find I am not particularly surprised to find he incorporated even that into training.

I take off, throwing out a subconscious net, feeling for the first marker. I sense a magic hotspot straight ahead, nowhere near the boundary of my senses. How hard can this be?

Nearly two hours later, I am at a crawling pace when I wheeze my way back into the castle yard. I didn't realize how rusty I was at detecting magic until the space between the trial markers began to increase, causing me to lose my way more than once.

I come to a stop in front of Thor, who has taken a seat on the steps.

He shakes his head. "Until you can master the course in under an hour, you may not rest."

I sigh but get ready to go again. The second time through will be easier, since I already know where the markers are.

"Oh," he says, as somewhat of an afterthought, "this time you will be looking for markers laced with Naslund's magic."

Even though I complete the task the second time around, Thor refuses to let up on the training. He stubbornly insists that I was late this morning and so we continue, switching to working on upper and lower body strength.

The sun is setting when Thor's brother Balder approaches us. "Father would like for you to be present at tonight's banquet," he announces. "Both of you, so I would suggest my Lady throws in the towel for tonight and retires to her rooms and…cleans up."

Considering how I looked before I spent all day sweating, I grimace at his remark. Before Thor has the chance to detain me, I turn and follow Balder up into the castle.

"Do not mistake my words for dislike," he says, avoiding my eyes. "But you should not be here. For all the gods' pretense that any threat has died with Loki's capture, it is far from the truth. The realms are on the verge of the greatest war in history, and it is no longer safe here. You are not a warrior; you are of no use in a war and there is no reason for you to sit and wait in danger's path."

This is news to me. The past two days that I've spent in Asgard, not a single person has mentioned a remaining war threat. "Trust me," I say, somewhat defensive over being called useless, whether it's true or not. "The moment trial ends tomorrow I plan on leaving, don't worry about the weak little human getting in your way of glory."

"You misunderstand-" he protests, but I shrug him off and pick up my pace, leaving him far behind. Odin has always been wrong to think I belong in Asgard among his family. There is no room for a human in the presence of the glory of gods.


	7. Chapter Six

I take a more leisurely shower than normal, but the hot water pouring over aching muscles feels too good to rush. I towel off and take a brush to my hair, the birds' nest of tangles bringing tears to my eyes. I make a mental note to find a way to obtain some golden apples, a fruit not easily obtained by humans.

When I step out of the bathroom the new gown is the first thing I notice is the gown laying across the sofa in the sitting room. Made entirely of crystals, the dress is stunning, the gold of the room setting off the silver majority of the dress. Strapless, the top of the dress rests low on my chest, and is a mixture of differing blue crystals that gradually peter out to silver, trailing down one hip to give the dress a flattering asymmetrical look. The shape of the gown is different from the modest ball gowns I was given years ago. Apparently, someone has noticed I am no longer a child, for the gown hugs my body in an almost scandalous way.

I'm surprised when the piece fits perfectly, especially since I know I've filled out quite impressively since I was last here as a scrawny teenager. I am impressed that the king's seamstresses have altered the measurements from years back to fit a completely different body.

Near the door, I find a pair of silver heels set with smaller crystals fixated to thin straps that weave in an intricate pattern across the top of the shoe. I can't help but feel impressed when I slip them on and not only do they fit perfectly, they add a good four inches to my average height of six and a half feet. Perhaps the gods elevated my shoe so I could avoid a kink in my neck from craning my head to look at them.

I feel like I am the star in a Hollywood movie scene as I descend the stairs, throwing my shoulders back regally. It is a good feeling, until I reach the bottom and quickly realize that no matter how stunning I think myself, all the crystals in Asgard won't give me the look of a goddess in formalwear.

Yet I must look quite a bit different than usual, as Balder and one of his brothers stop in their tracks as they see me. "Lady Angelia," they greet me, each kissing a hand. "Might we escort you to the banquet?" I haven't ever been particularly friendly with either man, and because of their convenient location when I appeared, I chalk their presence up to an order from Naslund.

"Thank you," I say, adopting a formal tone, "but I do believe this is one situation where I may just be useful enough to escort myself."

Balder is gracious enough to make an embarrassed noise of protest, but I am already sweeping past them, enjoying the airy feeling of an extra four inches. I only stumble once in the procession to the hall, and considering my history with heels, I consider it a success.

Thor appears just in time to support my arm, keeping me on my feet. "I can hardly tell that mere hours ago, you looked as ghastly as a pith." I debate stepping on his foot for comparing me to a specie similar to Earth's rat, but knowing him, he'd simply move his foot before I could, anyway. "I hadn't noticed before now, but you've changed more than I gave you credit for. Little angel is a child no longer."

"I had to grow up sometime," I say, deflecting the comment. I catch the eyes of several people I know as we enter the room, and I am gratified by the double takes, until I catch Sif's eye. She is dressed in a simple black garment, and I find she is still more striking than I am. I don't understand right away why she is shooting me daggers, until I remember whose arm I walked in on. Of course.

Before any trouble can come of it, I move away from Thor and take the seat Naslund is motioning me towards. Much to my chagrin, and much more to Sif's, Naslund seats Thor beside me. I make polite conversation with the gods and goddesses seated nearby, until Odin, at the head of the table, taps his staff against the floor.

"Sons and daughters, brothers and sisters," he says, voice resonating powerfully. I study the patch covering his right eye. "In celebration of the recent return of Lady Angelia, adopted daughter of Asgard and myself, I would like to dedicate tonight's celebrations to the return of my daughter."

There is a polite smattering of applause and I can feel my neck crawling as every face in the room turns to regard me.

"And!" he continues, shattering my hopes that the moment was over. "I wish also to bestow upon her, a gift. He stands, motioning for Naslund to follow him as he settles himself behind my chair. The tingling feeling turns into a burn. I stand, knowing it is what is expected of me.

"As of this moment, all of my children have been gifted with capes in signature colours, as is the tradition. Odetta Angelia Rosa Langeis, will you accept this gift, as well as the name, Friggasdotter, and all they entail?"

I nod, knowing it would disgrace not only me but every royal in the room if I refused. "It would be an honour."

And so the All-father takes the length of heavy fabric, made ironically of a strangely shimmery royal blue hue, from Naslund and ceremoniously drapes it across my shoulders, fastening the dazzling silver jewelled clasp at my neck. He takes the liberty of fluffing my hair out from under the fabric and places his hand solidly on my shoulder, guiding me around until we stand face to face.

Four inches isn't enough to bring me up to Odin's height so I tilt my head up, meeting his eye. "The honour is all mine," he says, so softly only I can hear. He returns to his seat and raises a hand, motioning for people to start with their meals. "Eat and drink merrily, in celebration of the day the house of Odin gained a daughter!"

Thor claps my back in a rough show of approval and I am glad he is nearby, in the sea of faces who watch me for the rest of the meal.

Several hours later, I make my escape, excusing myself from the mostly-full room. I stumble out of the castle, clearly drunk on the powerful liquor of the gods. I wander through the smaller streets leading out of the city.

"And so many sing of its beauty by day," Thor says, coming to a stop beside me, at the edge of the old Bifrost bridge. I hadn't realized he followed me from the banquet.

I murmur an agreement, the sight that normally takes my breath away rendering me speechless in my drunken state. The way the sunlight reflects the colours of the rainbow in the day is nothing compared to the softer, shimmery glow it gives off by moonlight. The colours shine less brightly, but in the dark of the night, they stand out in a way the sun would never allow them to.

I step out of my impractical shoes and take off across the smooth, shiny surface, slippery with dew. I slip once, twice, a third time, each time finding it funnier. Behind me I hear Thor roar with amusement as I nearly go down a fourth time, but he is going too fast and loses to gravity. Sliding forward faster than I am running, he cuts my legs out from under me, and we both slide the rest of the bridge's length.

For one sobering moment, I no longer feel the crystal sliding against my skin, only air. Then, I am flying upwards and backwards onto the edge once more, as Thor catches my flailing hand and swings me back to safety.

Shocked, I pause, kneeling on the cold surface, staring with wide eyes at Thor, who is crouching about a foot away on the very end of the bridge. We stare at each other a moment, and then that is the end of sobriety and we let loose with gales of laughter, the God of Thunder vastly louder than I.

We sit clumsily, for even Thor has had enough of the strong Asgard liquor to affect him, and dangle our feet over the edge. We lay back against the cool, glowing surface and watch the sky.

I don't know how long we lay like that, lost in thought, when we both turn to look at each other and with an unfocused gaze Thor confides quietly, "I cannot tell if I am glad you look nothing like her or if I am sorry for it."

Tears instantly well up and I choke out, "Don't do this to yourself, Thor. Don't do it to me."

"I ask myself, every day when I wake up and remember that she is gone, if I could've changed it," he continues, voice breaking. "If I had only been there when she needed me. I was so close, Angel, _so close!"_

I am already scrambling to my feet. "You couldn't have changed anything, Thor. You would most likely be dead as well. You have to let her go."

Suddenly he is standing, too and grabs at my wrist. "I am to let her go, yet you do not? I never figured you to be a hypocrite."

"You don't know what it feels like to lose a sibling!" I yell, emotion raging through me.

Thor lets go of my arm, a cool edge to his tone. "Don't I?" he asks, his expression broken.

A sob wracks my entire body and I do what I normally do when faced with any strong emotion – I run. I run all the way back down the bridge without stumbling once, pausing only to retrieve the shoes, though I don't waste time putting them back on. Clutching them in my hand, I keep going, wasting no time looking back for Thor.

I run past into the city streets and wind my way through alleys to the castle. With my emotions barely in check, I decide against heading straight for my rooms and instead I find myself walking in the opposite direction down the passageway.

Since I am running in the opposite direction of my rooms, I figure I might as well climb in the opposite direction and head downwards at the end of the hall. I wander down below for a while and soon come to a small room of gold, at the bottom of the castle. Noting my new cape and the meaning of such a gift, the two guards positioned at the bottom of the stairwell give me no trouble and I pass by them as if they aren't even there.

Across from the stairs, the room leads on by means of a hallway, as gold as the rest of the castle, though somehow darker. I move silently with my bare feet down the rocky path, and it isn't until the end that I realize where I am.

Inadvertently, I've located the cube that played such a key role in recent events: feet ahead of me I behold the Tesseract, mounted regally on a pedestal. Enchanted, I move closer, mesmerised by the cool blue glow lighting the hall.

"I wouldn't touch that," someone says. I spin around, looking for the source of the voice. "The All-father doesn't take kindly to outsiders touching that."

I look around again, so fast I find myself dizzy. "Who's there?" I call, slurring my words.

"It is I," the voice says, letting out a gleeful little laugh. "Only the most-talked about god at the moment." I hear a clapping sound, then the cage that once held the Destroyer lights up, revealing a ragged man dressed all in black.

"Loki Laufeyson," I say. I am finding when I speak slower I sound almost sober. His attire is missing the signature green, his own royal colour.

"Of course. Who else would I be?" He stands and walks to the edge of his cell. "But you, I don't know."


	8. Chapter Seven

**Hello, fanfictioners! This is a short piece so i figured I'd add a few words from the author (AKA, moi). Firstly, if you're reading this, I assume you find it intriguing enough to follow, so thank you, I know it started out kinda slow and has took a long time to really bring Loki into the story.**

**I just want to say that I would really appreciate feedback, even if it's just to let me know I made a mistake about something. I literally knew next to nothing about Asgard or the gods until about a week ago (I hadn't even seen the movies ****_Thor_**** or ****_The Avengers) _****so I would be the first to admit I might have written something that goes against the real story.**

**Anyway, if you haven't already given up on reading my rambling here, I present you with Seven, possibly the shortest installment yet ~**

We stand there for a long moment as I take in this turn of events. "But you do," I finally correct. "Thor introduced us days ago. Angelia, Loki. Loki, Angelia. I believe that about sums it up."

"That doesn't explain why you are here, a pitiful human parading around with the gods. Even in all that finery you wear cannot disguise your fragile humanity. Tell me, little human, what brings you to my dungeon?"

"I didn't know you were anywhere but the dungeons. As for what brought me here, that is none of your business." I cross my arms in front of my chest, narrowing my eyes at him.

"You look upset, little human. Had a bit of a fallout with your golden boyfriend, my dear brother?"

"You obviously have no idea how my relationship with Thor works," I retort, stumbling a little over the words. "And before you ask, it's none of your business, anyway." Realizing I am a little too outspoken for my own good, I turn to leave. Even drunk, I know when enough is enough.

"All I want to know is why," Loki says, obviously not as familiar with the term 'enough.'

I turn halfway back, watching him over my shoulder. "Why?"

"Yes, why. Why would you speak against the jury, pleading for someone you don't even know?" The green of his eyes unsettles me, and I consider fleeing as I realize my heart is hammering.

"I would hardly say I pled," I defend. "I merely pointed out a flaw in their logic."

"Don't lie to me, girl," he growls. "You would expect the very God of Mischief, Prince of Lies, the Son of Secrets. This is personal."

"Not so much personal on a personal level," I argue. "It's personal on a fundamental level. You aren't figured into the equation." I step closer in an effort to drive the message home. Inches away, I continue, "Satan himself could be on trial and I would vie for a fair verdict. Don't flatter yourself."

"Even if that is so, Satan couldn't make you rethink trial at all with a single touch." He reaches his hand out, barely managing to slip it through the bars on the door and reach for my wrist. With my temporarily slow reflexes, I jerk my hand away a second too slowly, feeling his palm graze my skin for a split second, leaving a cold, fiery feeling on my skin. Holding my hand close to my chest, I pause for a moment, staring at his outstretched hand.

"So how 'bout that," he says softly, eyes flickering up and down my body.

I turn and run back down the hallway, not caring about how weak I look, running away. I slow down when the guards come into view, not wanting to raise their suspicion. I make my way up the staircase, and all the way up to my rooms.

It isn't until I shut the door and stop for a moment that I realize I am violently shaking.


	9. Chapter Eight

The mood in the castle is tense the next morning. I can almost get lost in all the loud, conflicting emotions I read off of people on my way down to the great hall. Even people not involved in the court today are lingering outside the room, no doubt ready to spread the news of the traitor's death with the city. If execution is the choice of the council today, Loki will be immediately killed.

I meet Thor in the doorway, having come from opposite ends of the castle. I vaguely remember Naslund telling me that Thor's rooms were in the same tower as mine, and I wonder where he was off to so early in the morning. Wherever he's been, it hasn't been good. His complexion, normally tanned and healthy looks today more pale than I've ever seen him, his skin sallow and eyes haunted.

"Princess Angelia," he says, as if he hasn't noticed me among the faces until we pass through the doors together. "I would like to issue an apology. About last night-"

I hastily cut him off, as Sif is standing within earshot. "Cut the crap," I interject. "Since when are we formal with each other? None of this Princess bullshit, you of all people should know I only tolerate 'Lady' because it's better than _that_. Honestly, I am neither. And as for an apology, save your breath; As far as I'm concerned, there's nothing to forgive."

"Do you not realize that 'Princess' is now your formal title? Last night's banquet was somewhat of an impromptu coronation. Now that you are officially one of us, you may cast your ballot today with the rest. Welcome to the family."

"Yes, welcome," Sif says, sidling up to join the conversation. There's no doubt in my mind that she sees this as a way to keep me from sinking my claws into her crush, as if I even wanted to.

Before I am faced with having to make small-talk with Sif, I am jostled from behind by someone. Balder. I give him a hard look but refrain from verbal offense. Many others around us are taking seats and so I return to mine in among the royal family. It's only when the crowd begins to settle that I notice there are far fewer people present today than there was three days ago. The actual voting must be made by the higher ranking gods, while the general populace can voice an opinion only.

"Asgard," Odin begins, his voice rising over the remaining chatter. "We gather here today to decide the fate of one of our own. While it may seem like an obvious decision – execution in the face of treason – we have been presented with another choice. As you all remember, one young girl stood alone in defense of that man, a man she had never even met.

"It has dawned on me that such a noble action demonstrates a pure and courageous heart and strong mind. It is from this realization that another option is born. I propose this – Loki Laufeyson is to be given a year to change his heart and swear fealty to our side. Princess Angelia will spend a portion on every day working towards this goal. At the end of the year, should Loki renounce our efforts to spare him, standard treason protocol is to be followed, no second trial necessary."

"But, my king-" someone protests in the back.

"Silence!" Odin yells, bringing his scepter down upon the floor.

I hardly notice this, nor do I register the uproar of voices filling the room. For the first time I almost wish they would execute a man I believe to be innocent, at least in part. Better that than to have anything to do with such an evil person, for whether Loki is at fault for his upbringing or not, he is evil now. All I have to do to convince myself is think back to last night.

"Silence! Si-_lence_!" with the last word, he points the tip of his scepter at the crowd, and immediately there is silence indeed, though not because people are ready to calm. Odin has muted the protestors, and though their lips still move, not a one can be heard.

"We will put it to a vote, then," he says, calm once again. Another flick of the scepter and ballots fly across the room, landing in front of every god present.

There are two options on the paper, _Execution_ at the top, _Redemption _written in just below. Given no writing tool, I look to Odin for guidance and witness him pull out a small blade. With one deft movement, he cuts open the vein in his wrist, and immediately blood pours down. He takes his uninjured hand and dips a finger in the blood, imprinting with bloody ink over his choice. He silently passes the blade to Frigga, who daintily punctures her left index finger, waiting a moment for the blood to pool up to the surface before pressing it to the corresponding finger on her right hand. She, too makes a choice and passes it on.

Thor signs quickly, cutting a thinner slit into his wrist. Each of the other princes in turn do the same, though they take longer to deliberate. Then the blade is passed to me. I don't understand the ritual; do women only poke the finger, or is it a personal choice? Do you sign with your dominant hand or is it always the right, whether you're left handed? Being left-handed I find the last question especially to be important. If only I was closer to the end and had more time to study the way other gods signed.

Taking a deep breath, I drag the knife along my right wrist, not wanting to wait for a dainty prick to the finger to bleed. I cover my finger in my own ink and pause, hand hovering over the paper. There are two very different arguments waging war inside my mind: choose the right answer or choose the option that doesn't trap me here for a year, forced to spend time with _him_.

At last I bring my hand down on the paper, not sure if I've made the right choice. I barely notice the mannerisms of the gods, stuck so deep in my own mind I cannot tell who deliberates and who signs immediately.

When the last one has signed, the blade flies back across the room to land in Odin's hand, followed quickly by the ballots. "Court is adjourned until nightfall," he announces. "In the meanwhile, ballots will be counted, and one man's fate will be decided."

I work my way through the crowd, searching for one face in particular, a face I know was here somewhere only moments ago. Giving up as I realize he is no longer in the room, I push my way through the door, breaking into a run once there's room to. I retrace my steps from the day I returned, winding through the underground passages. I reach the spot where the Gatekeeper met us three days ago, but he isn't here. I resurface aboveground and find my feet following a default pattern, winding through the city.

I watch my feet cross the ground in large strides, not looking up even as the ground transitions from gleaming gold to a glistening rainbow of crystals. I am nearing the halfway point along the bridge when I look up, noting for the first time that someone has beaten me to my spot. A tall figure stands at the end of the old bridge. The sun, already beginning its slow descent into the horizon conceals the man's identity in a silhoutte of shadows.

Yet judging by the man's stance, I think I know who he is. He doesn't react as I walk up and stop beside him, though I know he has sensed my presence from farther than I sensed his.

"What do you see?" I ask him, gazing out into the starry scene.

The Gatekeeper gives a soft sound of frustration. "Not as much as I used to, and too much that I don't understand. And always so much darkness."

His words send shivers up and down my spine as he continues, his voice a slightly different pitch than before. "Unless all Odin's children pull together and take a stand, the darkness will win, A year from now, more or less, Asgard will be dragged into the greatest war it's ever seen. If even one child defects to the dark side, the darkness will swallow us up, and this land will be waste within two."

"No one can know that for sure," I argue, trying to brush off the strange tone he spoke in.

"Ah, but I have seen it," he says with certainty. "Come, Princess. We don't want to miss the King's verdict."

He turns and begins the walk back to the castle. I don't follow immediately; instead, I remain on the edge of the world, as I've come to think of it, looking out into the realms, trying to see the threatening darkness the Gatekeeper spoke of.


	10. Chapter Nine

"…and with that, I proclaim trial to be over." Odin taps the scepter on the floor, much the way a human judge hits the gavel to signify the end of a court case.

I can tell the jury was divided; many of the gods who file out leave their emotions plain on their face, though they voice them no longer. There was no uproar like there was earlier; it was as if they simply accepted the decision that had been made and saw no further point in arguing with each other.

I make no move to leave, shocked into stillness by the results of the trial. Considering that every single man and woman who had appeared in court that first day had unanimously agreed on Loki's death, the result of it all quite honestly came as a surprise to me, and not an altogether pleasant one.

"Angelia, if you would stay a moment." I nod to Odin, though I had no plan of escaping.

"We need to discuss the parameters of the situation," he says once the room has cleared. I stand and fidget in front of the King.

"Every day for the next year, you are to spend twelve hours of your day with Loki."

"Four," I bargain. For a moment the All-father looks almost angry that I would disobey, but rather than punishing me, he just sighs.

"Eight. The other four will be spent in training with Thor. You are so undertrained it is laughable. If we go to war you will not stand a chance against the weakest of frost giants." It doesn't come as a surprise to me that he is anticipating a war; if the Gatekeeper was willing to tell me of the threat, of course he would have already warned the King.

"Let me spend one full month training before beginning this. You and I both know there's a good chance he will attack anyone if there's a chance he can escape."

Odin's tone leaves no more room for argument. "Starting tomorrow you will begin the regime I laid out for you. I do not expect you to enter his cell the first time you go down there. But when you do, it will be like a wall between you, and until there is a time when you no longer need the barrier, it will appear any time you enter the cell. I will have Naslund teach you how to throw up a barrier of your own in the event you want a barrier back once the one I've constructed is removed."

"And what am I supposed to be doing, exactly?" I ask, somewhat sarcastically. "Finding out his hobbies, favourite colour? Turning him into my new BFF?"

"BFF?" He raises an eyebrow at the term and I wave my hand, in a 'forget it' way. "We need all the strength we can get in preparation for the high likelihood we go into battle. People are greatly influenced by those they spend time with, and gods react in much the same way."

"So I am to convince him to return from the dark side," I say. "Don't you think someone like Thor, who Loki shares such a bond with, might be more effective?"

"No so. The brothers are at such odds right now, I believe it will take many years to reconcile them, if it is even possible. And if there's one thing I've learned throughout the millennia, it is that all men have a soft spot for pretty women."

"Well," I say, pushing away thoughts of last night and the way Loki reached for my hand, "unless they're gay." The King's brow furrows, as though he's unfamiliar with the term.

Choosing to ignore my flippant remark, he dismisses me without another word.

As I am about to open the heavy door to leave, Odin calls out. "Do not think I am doing this just to keep you here. Any time you wish to return home or give up, whether it is tomorrow or eleven months from now, you may. However, if you leave before twelve months is up or before Loki has changed his mind about certain things, it will be as though he has failed to change and he will be executed upon your departure. Just a little food for thought."

Thor is waiting just outside the room and before I can ever process what is happening, I am flying through the air, so fast I can't see anything but a colourful blur passing by.

"Put me down!" I squeal, feeling almost sick with dizziness.

He stops but doesn't let go of me. "Ha!" he shouts, laughing. He plants a jubilant kiss on my lips, leaving me blinking in shock, the world still spinning. "We did it! You did it! Ah, this is _great_ news! Shall we pay my brother a visit and tell him the good news?"

"He may not think it so good," I say, but Thor pays my words no heed and pulls me down the hall after him.


	11. Chapter Ten

When we come to a stop in front of Loki's cell, he remains seated, face turned towards the back wall of the room.

"Brother," Thor says, smiling. "I bring you good news. You are to live!"

"What kind of a life is it when I am trapped here alone, like a dangerous animal? Tell me brother, what is the good news?"

"Hope, brother," Thor says, less jubilant. "Where there is life, there is hope. Someday you may be free of the bars, free to walk among our people once more."

"They are_ your_ people, not mine. Whether or not I may someday walk among them, they will not walk where I go. These are the same people who want me dead, _brother_, and you among them. Not a one of you spoke for me from the beginning." His tone is cold, though I think I can sense that beneath the front he is maybe more hurt than angry.

"Trust me brother, I am very sorry for that, but it took someone who thinks very differently than myself to find a solution, and for that I humbly ask your forgiveness." Thor hangs his head as Loki brings his up, green eyes snapping.

"I forgive nothing!" He shouts, voice getting louder with each word. "Did you ever think maybe the reason only one person in that whole room could think past killing me was the only one who doesn't know me? The _stupidest_ person in the room thought of your bloody _solution_, an inferior, small-minded human. The weakest form of life."

Thor meets his brother's gaze, bringing his head back up sharply. "Watch your words, brother. By very choice of the King of Asgard, this 'weak' human has been chosen to join into our family."

"Yes, and I can already see why he did so," Loki retorts, nodding at our hands, still joined from our journey down. "Everyone knows you have a weakness for human women, and this way even father can approve."

"I believe I've already told you just how wrong you are about that particular subject," I say, quietly but firmly before Thor can begin yelling.

"You spoke only for yourself, you revolting quim," he retorts, curling his lip into a snarl.

"A pity you find me so revolting," I say with some amusement, "since we will be seeing quite a lot of each other for the next while."

"What?" Loki asks incredulously. Thor takes one look at his brother's face and breaks into hearty laughter.

"Trust me, I am no more thrilled than you are," I respond drily. I slip my hand out of Thor's and turn in anticipation of leaving.

"Oh, but I am _very_ thrilled, little human," he says snidely, breaking into a small, sly grin.

I purposely avoid his gaze, turning instead to Thor before I leave. "See you tomorrow, then," I say and slip out of the room before any more can be said.

.*

It's late enough now that I find I'm the only person wandering the halls, and I'm grateful for the silence that follows me up the staircase, something I haven't had much of in the past few days. Considering all there solitude there was out in the mountains, returning to Asgard has really put into perspective just how alone I was used to being.

I close the door to my rooms and let out a tired sigh, planning to run a bath and relax. It's been a long day and I think some bubble therapy is in order. Until I turn around and take in the room, namely, the man standing in the middle of the room.

"I haven't had a chance to ask, since your coronation the other night," Naslund says, unclasping his hands from behind his back. "Do you go by Princess now, or should I still refer to you as Lady?"

"Lady," I answer, shrugging off my sweater. "And if you don't mind, Naslund, it's been a long day and tomorrow looks to be even longer, so I'd like to get some rest."

"King Odin suggested that you might like to learn to create boundaries, to throw up barriers strong enough to keep a certain prisoner behind them. Since you will have to advance greatly in this talent in order to keep such a skilled magician from breaking through, I thought tonight was the best time to start."

My spirits sink, mentally kissing the hope of a nice long soak goodbye. "Where do we start?" I ask, slipping out of my shoes before crossing the room.

"Casting a barrier isn't hard," Naslund begins, pacing by the window like an old professor, reciting the same lesson for the umpteenth class. "It is maintaining and strengthening the force that gets to magicians. It takes extraordinary concentration to maintain a barrier. Before we work on strengthening yours, we are going to work on concentration."

He moves to one side of the room and pulls a cover off of a painting sitting on an easel.

"This is _Origin_, a painting done by a very distant ancestor of the All-father. I will give you a few moments to study it, and then I will ask you to reproduce the image on paper. The day you can concentrate efficiently enough to perfectly reproduce an image is the day we will move on to actually casting barrier spells."

"You can't be serious," I say, staring in horror at the painting. I feel like I could stare at it for a thousand years and still miss details.

"You're on the clock," he says, noticing I am already studying the drawing. "You have ten minutes."

My eyes fly furiously across the paper, trying to remember all the details of the artwork. I scan from top to bottom, left to right and before I am ready, Naslund covers the painting and hands me a piece of paper and a handful of coloured pencils.

I start with the top left quadrant and fill in all I remember before sketching the top right square. When I'm satisfied that I've done a reasonable good job, I hand the paper to Naslund, who scans it quickly before crumpling it up and throwing it out the window.

"If that was the equivalent of the concentration you could put into a barrier, a first-year student of magic could break through that. A word of advice," he says, "sketch loosely the big picture before focussing on details. I'll be back about this time tomorrow, with a new picture. And make sure you know your colours. None of your shades are right and that's something you should be concentrating on as well."

I groan. "Can't we continue with that picture?"

"Then we aren't working on concentration; this all becomes a matter of memorization, which will get you nowhere. Sleep well, my Lady." Before I can protest further, Naslund gracefully exits the room and I sink into a chair in defeat.

I stare for a moment at the pencils, which Naslund left behind. I note the shades I have and what colours could mix to make them lighter, darker, or more intense. Finally convinced I've studied the palette before me as much as I can, I drag myself to my feet and start a bath.

Moments later, I sigh in content as I sink into almost scalding hot water, laced with perfume. I wash quickly and then take my time relaxing. I can almost feel the kinks of tension loosening in my neck and shoulders. For the first time since Thor and I began my training sessions, I don't feel my muscles burning, though there is a nice tingle in my submerged skin. I've always liked incredibly warm baths, and I close my eyes contentedly, feeling peaceful for the first time since I left my cabin on Earth.

When I open my eyes, I realize by the drastic drop in temperature that I'd fallen asleep. I sit up, about to get out of the bath and into bed when I hear muffled footsteps out in the sitting room. Very slowly I stand and reach for the towel, so the dripping doesn't give me away. I slowly cross the room to the door, walking on tiptoe. I can't hear movement anymore, but I quietly turn the knob anyway, opening the door soundlessly.

There are two very large men rooting through the drawers in a stand by the window. I am alarmed by more than their height, my attention immediately going to their more unusual feature: their skin. I've never seen a god with such skin colour. Usually, they possess the same range of skin tones that the humans do, unless they're like the god of leaves or something and turn themselves green.

These two, however, aren't green; both possess skin that glows an eerie blue in the moonlight. Call me crazy, but the only creatures I've heard of that match their description are the frost giants in Jotunheim. I can't think of a reason for them to be sneaking around Asgard, though, let alone why they'd be in my rooms.

And since I just awoke, I do something I would never do in full control of my senses; I shout at them, causing one to slam a drawer on the other's hand. "You do _not_ have permission to be here!" I yell, trying to look fierce while wrapped in only a towel. My dripping, tangled hair probably doesn't do me any favours.

Whatever they came for, it must not have been to kill me, because as soon as I called, they moved for the door. Again, because I am not thinking straight, I chase after them, trying futilely to reach them before they reach the door. I am still a good few feet away when the door slams shut. I stop and glance around the room, which looks undisturbed, other than one of the drawers being open a few inches.

Whatever they were looking for, I don't think they found it. Though it wouldn't stop someone who really wanted in, I lock the door from the inside and return to the bathroom to detangle my hair. Once that is done, I drop the towel and shrug into a warm, fluffy robe and crawl into bed, though it's a long time before I relax enough to drift back into sleep.


	12. Chapter Eleven

Through unspoken agreement, I meet Thor once again at sunrise. I didn't even oversleep this morning, owing to the fact I slept lightly after meeting with the intruders. I think about mentioning them to Thor, but I know that if I do, it'll mean being followed by guards, because Odin will assume they're simply after the newest royal.

And for large portions of my day, I _much_ prefer to be alone.

So we go through the motions, balancing techniques and other physical tortures for the morning. We spar for a few moments at the end, and even though I'm exhausted, I land a few hits. I'm feeling quite impressed with myself until I land a hit that even _I_ could have blocked, and I realize he's going easy on me.

I call him out on it, and he just shrugs. "You're not ready to face me at full strength. This way you can actually hit me, if you apply the right techniques. You'll remember what works and what doesn't later on and that's the main thing." And then he punches me, knocking me off of my feet.

Thor lets me go when he breaks for the noon meal. I've been training for nearly six hours, close to time-and-a-half of what I was ordered to do. Something tells me Odin wouldn't count that as two hours out of tomorrow's time.

I consider heading straight to the underground prison that I am to share with Loki for a third of the day, since I don't really care if I smell like sweat and have greasy hair around him. I figure I'll feel much better personally, though, if I take to my rooms first for a quick shower.

At least that's what I tell myself.

So that's how I find myself heading down the stairs dressed not in workout gear but in my own black boots and jeans, a silver, long-sleeved shirt with a splash of sparkle which I found in one of the drawers in my bedroom, mostly obscured by my black military-style jacket I donned in anticipation of the cold lower levels of the castle.

"And here I was beginning to think you'd already given up on me," he says, as I slide into a sitting position against the side of the tesseract's pedestal.

"Sorry to disappoint," I return, crossing my arms. "I know you'd much rather sulk alone in the dark all day." Whether or not I am hoping to get a rise out of him, he says nothing and we lapse into silence. Eventually I rest my head on my knees and drift off to sleep.

I am awakened some time later by the guards. "It has been a full eight hours, Princess," he says, his hand outstretched to help me to a standing position. I take it to be polite, though I hate that as soon as Odin pinned the cape on my shoulders that night at dinner, the palace staff treats me as though I am a porcelain doll, ready to shatter at any time.

"Thank you," I say with what I hope passes for a dismissal nod. I look towards the darkened cell. "I can only hope tomorrow will be as stimulating," I direct towards Loki. I think I hear him breathe out heavily, as though amused, but I'm not sure.

To my dismay, Naslund is waiting in my rooms when I reach the top of the tower, another painting sitting by the window. Wordlessly, I take a seat and study it for the allotted ten minutes, trying to take in all the detail of it. Again, it is a very busy piece, full of conflicting themes and objects and intricate colour patterns. I struggle against the urge to sit and just stare at its beauty.

I think I do better tonight, getting more detail in thanks to Naslund's pointers from yesterday.

"This may be a few lessons too soon, Princess," he says, looking over my work quickly. "But you're going about the concentrating portion wrong. You need to see without seeing, concentrate without looking. Only when you understand that will you have mastered the technique."

Naslund turns to leave, as he did yesterday but I clear my throat, stopping him at the door. "What kinds of spells could you teach me to keep out intruders, in theory?"

Naslund gives me a weird look. "Have you been experiencing intruders, my Lady?"

"No, no," I say quickly, backpedalling in my mind. "It's just that I would like to know how to protect myself should I ever need to."

"I will show you a simple spell, then, since it is late and you have a long day ahead tomorrow," he says. He shows me the spell, practicing on the bathroom door, and once shut with magic, I cannot open it, not with all my strength barrelling into the wooden blockade.

"That's just the 'tip of the iceberg' as the humans would say, when it comes to blocking spells. Since you are to be spending so much of your time with Prince Loki, you might be better off to convince him to teach you. I taught him everything I knew hundreds of years ago, and he's been learning ever since. Chances are, he knows spells no one else in the Asgard Province knows; he spent years out in the mountains among those folk, and no doubt he found some sort of sorcerer out there to learn from."

I thank him and draw up a bath when he leaves, mulling over how to 'see without seeing.' I don't fall asleep in the tub tonight, and before I climb into bed, I cast a spell upon the door in the hopes of keeping any following intruders out. I lay awake for almost an hour waiting for last night to repeat itself, and soon I fall asleep, reassured that I will spent the night alone.

.*

It is still dark when I wake up to the same rustling sounds as the night before. I resist the urge to swing open the door and confront the creatures, find out if they're frost giants or something different altogether, but I stay in bed, sitting and waiting for them to try the reinforced bedroom door.

My waiting is rewarded moments later when something tries to twist the doorknob. I am pleased when the first attempt fails, triumphant when the second, third and a very vicious fourth attempt fail as well. I hear mumbling outside the door, before I hear two sets of footsteps cross the sitting room. Knowing i can cast a spell sufficient to keep them out, I leap out of bed and reach into the nightstand drawer where I keep my dagger. I fling open the door, knife in hand, just in time to again see the far door swing shut as the intruders exit my rooms.

Disappointed, I return to my room and cast a fresh spell upon the door, and knowing I'm safe, I fall asleep quickly, to dreams of giant beings creeping through the castle.


	13. Chapter Twelve

I awake the next morning to the sounds of someone banging on my bedroom door. I hear swearing, in the tone of my new honorary brother and I rise, quickly wrapping a housecoat over me as the door comes crashing open.

"What would possess you to bewitch yourself inside a room, Angel?" he says, when he spots me in the corner.

"How did you get in?" I demand, ignoring his question.

"Even I know simple spells, Angel. I learnt alongside Loki for the first hundred years or so as we were taught the basics. That is the first blocking spell we ever used, so weak you don't even have to disarm it most times, pure strength will do it."

"So someone like, say, a _frost giant_, could have easily broken through that spell?" I ask, in what I hope passes as a casually curious voice.

He looks at me as though I've grown another head. "A small one, and easily. Is that what this is about? Why would you be concerned about frost giants when you are tucked away in the safest building in all of Asgard? You do not have to worry about frost giants, Angel, only about being late for training with me. You've overslept again. Fifteen minutes."

I groan and fling off the housecoat as he turns to leave, not even waiting for the door to shut as I begin dressing. Thankfully, I make it down to the yard within my time limit and as a result, Thor can't give out his favoured punishments.

I decide to make a habit out of returning to my rooms afterwards and then head to the castle's underground feeling fresh, if not excited to spend hours in the dark with a criminal. He says nothing when I arrive, however, and I take to my spot in similar wordless fashion. Eight hours passes in the same silence, and I gratefully rise to my feet when the guard arrives to relieve me of my duties.

I do no better with Naslund's portrait project and I am thoroughly bored by the time I reach my bed, having cast the blocking spell upon the door for practice more than for protection, after the way Thor barged his way through.

This night, however, I don't hear any sounds from the main rooms of my suite, and I sleep in a dreamless land painted in shades of black, and strangely, green.

The next week or so passes in a similar manner; training with Thor, which I usually wake up in time for; eight hours of silence with Loki, which is now beginning to seem like a competition to see who will break the silence first; then just as I am ready to sleep for the next three days, concentration practice with Naslund and then sleep. I am awakened often, though not every night, by the rustling sounds in the sitting room, though I have no luck in catching the perpetrators before they slip back out.

The constant training and thinking is more than I'd forced myself to do in the cabin in the mountains, and by the middle of next week I am feeling snappish and poor Thor feels the brunt of my bad mood during training one morning. On the plus side, with my juices flowing and temper roused, I perform better than I ever had during the morning workout.

"Remind me to make you angry more often," Thor says afterwards. "You fight like a man when you're mad." He is surprised for some reason when my fist connects with his shoulder as he speaks.

I am planning on an eight hour nap as I descend to Loki's level, but I can tell immediately I won't be so lucky. Rather than retreating into the dark corners of his cell when I show up, he is standing at the bars today. I say nothing and pray he will maintain his normal silence.

"You're quite disappointing to me," he says as I take my usual spot.

"Well, you're quite disappointing to your entire family," I retort, turning my head to watch him as he slowly paces along the gate to the cell.

Ignoring me, he continues, "After all I've heard of you, I expected more. The only human welcomed into the realm of the gods, strident enough to argue with the All-father himself over a criminal you didn't even know, and now I meet you, and I have to wonder if your past actions were just a fluke. They send me a small human nitwit who sits there day after day doing little more than taking in air. I expected you to be more interesting."

"I didn't choose to come here," I defend myself, rising to my feet.

"Funny," he replies, "neither did I. Yet here we are, both prisoners of Odin, in one sense or another."

"I can leave any time I want," I disagree, getting a feel for what he's getting at. "We are nothing alike, Loki."

"That's what they tell you, yet you feel personally obligated to stay, because they've made it known that should you leave now, I will die. You can't leave with a clear conscience. Of course we are nothing alike. I'd have already left me to die."

"Trust me, I owe you nothing." I approach his cell, hands on my hips. "If I had kept quiet at that meeting, you'd already be dead. My conscience doesn't hold me here."

"You rationalize it now so prettily, but when it comes down to it, you couldn't follow through with that. But, if you ever want an alternative where you can go home guilt-free, let me know."

I narrow my gaze at the man behind the bars. "And how would that work, exactly? Unless you think I would help you escape, and if that's your plan, you are very wrong."

"Just think about it for a moment," he says, not denying his intentions. "Once freed, if they hunted me down and killed me, you'd have nothing to do with it, and with me out of their reach, you could go back to your little mountain shack. Not to mention I _would_ owe you any favour you might ask of me. Like, say, perhaps continued protection from any frost giants you may possibly encounter."

"What makes you think I would ever go anywhere near a frost giant, let alone need your protection?" I ask, stepping ever closer. "Or perhaps you know about what has been going on within the castle. Tell me, Loki, what do you know about the frost giants in the castle?"

"I have not the faintest idea what you are talking about. It is so hard to keep track of things when one is kept in solitary confinement indefinitely."

"What am I supposed to do, find you a cellmate?"

"It's just that this is such a large cell to spend full days alone in. I am sure, if someone would visit for even just a part of the day, it would help me to make sense of what I know."

"I don't know what you're planning, god of Mischief," I say, reaching for the lock on the door, "but whatever it is, it isn't going to work. Now step back; I won't open this gate with you so close to it."

He obediently moves to the back wall and waits expectantly, suddenly quiet. It reminds me of a child holding their breath as a parent deliberates whether to allow them to sleep over at a friend's. as the lock opens with a _snick_, I can almost feel the breath he lets out. I quickly relock the door from the inside and move further into the darkness, eyes adjusting to the shadowy cell. Even knowing that Odin has arranged for a barrier while I am in the cell, I am on edge, the hairs on my neck standing straight up, it seems.

"Tell me about the frost giants," I demand, watching Loki for any sudden movements.

"I've been in here a long time already," he says, shrugging. "It may take a while for me to remember anything of importance."

"What are you trying to accomplish here?" I ask, my shoulders tense.

"I just want to know more about the little human girl Odin sees so much in," he says, stepping forward. I instinctively take a step backwards, barrier or not, I don't trust him.

"I'm not a little girl," I argue pointlessly, "I am twenty-two years old and far from the child you think I am."

"Maybe twenty-two is old for a human, but by god standards, you are still an infant. Tell me, did Odin tear you away from your family and people the way he did me?" His eyes glitter with anger, I assume at Odin.

"He showed up more than five years ago," I say, cooperating so as to appease Loki in his combative state. "On my seventeenth birthday, rogue frost giants, I was later told, showed up in my family home near Banff. I was out in the forest at the time, and came home to a burning house, my father dead just outside, encased in a layer of ice.

"The next day, before I had decided what to do, Odin showed up and basically told me he would be my guardian until I came of age, and I was to live in his palace in Asgard as one of his own until then." I didn't believe him until he teleported me straight to Asgard. "Thor spent much of the time here acclimatizing me to the culture, but as soon as I could, I left the realm and returned to Earth, where I kept to the mountains until Odin sent a request to me asking that I return."

I don't mention anything about my sister or anything that happened once I returned to Earth, or the only event that shook my bond with Thor almost to the point of breaking. And I definitely do not tell him that my older sister was Thor's one true love before she was brutally murdered less than a year ago.


	14. Chapter Thirteen

**Special, special thank-yous to Robert1000, Geronimo1987, and Ryle Culler for the reviews! Especially since they are all nice ;) it makes me so excited to write more of the story. Thank you also for those who favourited or followed the story, that's almost as good haha. I appreciate it all!**

"I thought we had an agreement," Loki says the next day, as I move to take my place by the pedestal. "How could I possibly remember the things you've asked of me when I am slowly being driven insane by the lonely solitude being enforced upon me by our dear king?"

"For all I know you are stringing me along," I say, "and have no intention of telling me the truth about the frost giants, for they_ are_ frost giants, the creatures I have been seeing, I am sure of it."

"I don't intend to tell you today," he easily agrees, "but there are other things I could divulge, if you would but humour a lonely man."

"And what would you tell me?" I ask, meeting him at the bars.

"Well, for one thing, I have never sensed as much potential in another person, not even another _god_, _especially_ not in a human, than I can feel in you. You could very well have the most extraordinary gift ever bestowed upon a mortal."

"Well you certainly aren't talking about the gift of gab, seeing as how that seems to be your forte. Have you ever in your life just told something straightaway, rather than dancing around it with vague hints and riddles?" Nevertheless as he steps back I open the gate, stepping inside as I did the day before.

"I'll never understand why humans think their sense of humour is so developed," he muses, stepping forward to the halfway point at the room, as far as the barrier will let him come, I guess. "Then again, I expected more from you, being what you are."

I furrow a brow at him, unsure as to how I should respond. This is the first I've heard someone say I am more than 'just' a human, and since it's coming from the Prince of Lies, I don't dare take it at face value.

"But then, you don't know about that, do you?" he says, his tone mocking my supposed ignorance. "How little you know of why you're here. I bet no one, not even your dear_, dear_ Thor mentioned the prophesy. I assume that they think you are the one mentioned in Teir's last telling."

"No offense, but I am not exactly sure you are a trustworthy source of information," I say smoothly, as though his words sailed in one ear and out the other. "If there was more to my being here than what I know, I am sure Thor, at least, would have told me."

"Not," he replies, "if he is also mentioned in the aforementioned prophesy. And he is, I'll assure you," Loki continues. "Although, on a more disappointing note, I am sure you will find, I am also. Teir's prophesy of the trio, an interesting final utterance of a man whose visions _always_ proved to be true."

"What exactly did this 'Teir' say?"

Loki shrugs in a nonchalant way that makes my blood boil. "If you're so convinced darling Thor would tell you, go ahead and ask him. That isn't even what I was planning on telling you. Humans are ridiculously easy to distract, just dangle something new and shiny in front of them and they forget what just moments ago caught their attention."

"Then it's a good thing, isn't it, that you say I'm not human," I retort. "But what else am I?"

"You think I would just simply tell you?" Loki laughs. "If you weren't so delusional as to think that one day you'll go back to your old life as though this is all a dream, you'd have figured it all out by now, if you were as _committed_ to the King as he seems to be to you."

"Well I expect you to tell me something, actually _tell_ me something, not just hint at a dozen things and then refuse to explain. What is my 'astonishing' gift, Loki?"

"It is a gift of extraordinary magical ability. Where a normal human would at the peak of their training struggle to lift a feather an inch from where it lays, you have a talent that exceeds that of the vast majority of the Asgardians. Not only that," he says, stepping closer as he gestures at me. "You seem to be filled with it, as though the very blood coursing through your veins carry magic. I can only imagine how powerful you could be with those stores of energy to harness and… a proper instructor."

I hadn't believed that the tricks Odin taught me years ago were anything out of the ordinary. The way I could open a door without touching it was an amusing way to pass time back then. Something so trivial I'd assumed anyone could do it, and now someone has come along and said that for any human such a thing would be impossible. I feel as though I am losing the mindset that I am normal, as though I'm being forced to accept the incredible, unbelievable world as plausible and believable.

"And what do you propose I do about finding an instructor?" I ask. "Surely you have someone in mind beyond the palace mages; even I know you've learnt far more than they could teach. Someone out there knows far more than the palace does. Where can I find him?"

"A pity for you, he's dead," Loki says, without inflection. "But maybe under slightly different circumstances, his only pupil could show you all he knew."

"I should just walk away now," I say softly, voice low with suspicion. "You require a price, a tuition of a sort, and being the God of Mischief, I don't think it will be anything I am willing to give." His eyes flicker up and down and I twitch self-consciously, face turning red as I realize how he interpreted my words.

"What I want is rather simple, actually," he pronounces, pacing back and forth along his side of the barrier. "I merely need you to take down this barrier that falls neatly between us when you enter the room – excuse me, cell."

I open my mouth to object, but he cuts me off. "Don't tell me you cannot. I know the spell, it is a basic protection spell made complicated by the fact it is controlled by two casters. Since it is you it seemingly protects, it's obvious you are the second. When you take down the barrier we'll begin, not before."

The footsteps of the guards approach and I move to the door. "Don't think I don't know you're planning something," I say, locking the door as I leave. "And sooner or later, I'll figure out just what it is."

"Later, I am hoping," he says blithely, turning back to the cold stone wall as I make my way back up into the sunlit halls above.


	15. Chapter Fourteen

As I am beginning to count on, Naslund is already set up in my rooms when I return to the tower around sunset. Without any fanfare, he pulls away the covering sheet to reveal another new painting. "Good luck," he says, as he's taken to doing.

With this painting, the first thing I notice is the colours, violent strokes of black and green wind through the images, none of which are completely clear. The piece has a tempestuous, foggy feel to it, and I feel drawn to it unlike any of the previous projects. I tell myself it's the stormy feel of it, and not the green, a colour so striking on the man who wears it.

I wonder briefly if that thought it treasonous before realizing I am losing precious time thinking about someone I have no business thinking about.

When Naslund recovers the painting, I close my eyes for a moment, having blinked only sporadically throughout the past ten minutes, and when I open them, I reach straight for the pencils and begin to draw.

It is twenty minutes or more before I motion Naslund over to check my work. He studies it for such a long time I wonder if I've finally got it. Eventually, he straightens up and once again uncovers the painting, his head moving in a silent nod of approval.

"I think you finally have it. If you can concentrate so fully on every detail you see here, it will be simple for you to concentrate on maintaining a far less intricate barrier image. You've done well tonight, and tomorrow we will begin the next step – throwing the barrier, and the process behind creating a strong one."

I treat myself to an extra-long soak in the tub once I am alone, silently celebrating my success. It crosses my mind that had it been any other picture I would have failed as I did all the nights before this one, but I towel off the concerning thoughts as I towel the water off of my skin. It doesn't go unnoticed that I scrub far harder than usual.

It isn't until I am curled up in bed that I am settled enough that my earlier conversation comes back to me; both the part about not being human and the mysterious Teir's even more mysterious prophesy, in which I am supposedly mentioned. I make a mental note to ask Thor tomorrow about Teir, though I decide not to bring up the part where I am supposedly not human. That part sounds so unreal to me that I can't imagine it being true. Most likely that is just Loki's way of messing with my mind; telling me lies mixed among the truth until I can't figure out what is what.

I fall asleep with a mind still muddled with thoughts of soothsayers and mystical fortunes, half-human creatures mixing in and out of my thoughts. I don't hear any intruders enter my suite, and in the morning I wake feeling refreshed and almost ready to do a thousand situps or whatever Thor has planned, at least until I roll over.

Sitting on the nightstand beside my bed is a small, plain coloured bird, a long, thin blade running through its chest. I stifle the urge to scream and sit up quickly, noticing almost immediately the small scroll wrapped around its leg.

_Is this one yours?_

For a moment I can feel the wall of tears settled into the back of my eyes begin to crack, threatening to break loose, but almost subconsciously, I notice that the small bird, though very similar to Ciro, doesn't have the same two dark spots splashed upon his beak.

Taking deep breaths to calm myself, I pull the blade from the small body, and using my fingertips to grab hold of its wing, I carry it to the big window I admired the first day. With a heavy heart, I let go, watching the bird plummet to the ground. I almost expect it to flap its wings and level off as birds tend to, but even in Asgard, dead birds are dead, and I have to hurry to practice.


	16. Chapter Fifteen

"Again," Thor instructs, calling out from his perch on a post several feet away. "Harder!"

I lunge again, my goal to rattle the post enough for Thor to lose his balance and fall. I throw all my weight into the motion and get little more result than a quiver Thor likely didn't even feel.

He orders me to try again, yawning where he sits. It's no use, though. I understand enough of the physics behind it to know that a little person like me isn't going to be able to unseat him using only my own strength. He had used Balder as an example before I tried the first time, and on the first try Thor had unseated him, but the physical differences between me and Thor or any of the gods was laughable.

I try again and again, feeling the bruises as instantly as they appear. I switch ramming shoulders, having been instructed by Thor to come at the post turned slightly, shoulder tucked down to make contact first, just like a linebacker does during a football game. Brute force, I decide as I run at it again, is not my style.

So on the next try; I do things a little differently. I start off running, and as I get closer I can see Thor brace himself, anticipating the coming hit. Mere seconds before I touch the post physically, I throw all my energy at it mentally, earlier than Thor anticipated.

As expected, he finally falls. Not as expected, he is thrown as the post cracks in half where I aimed the force, shooting splinters through the air and shooting the top half of the post and Thor dozens of feet forward. Of course, having done it before I make contact, I go sprawling, the post no longer in the spot I expected.

Thor picks himself up without a word, working his jaw as though hurt. In an effort to get to my own feet, I tuck a knee underneath myself for balance and am surprised by the sharp pain radiating from the joint. Bringing the leg forward to examine the injury, I find the solution to be as easy as plucking a good sized splinter from my flesh, wincing as I pull it out to find a full inch or so had been embedded inside.

"Care to explain?" I look up and find Thor to be standing above, like a personal sunshade blocking the late morning sunlight.

"Look, Thor," I say as I come to my feet. Even standing, with the difference in our heights he does a pretty good job blocking the sun. "I'm just not strong enough to do the things you do – look at me, for heaven's sake! I must be nearly a foot shorter and a quarter of the size otherwise! I will _never_ be able to do this!"

"How did you do that?" he asks, ignoring my outburst momentarily.

"Odin showed me basic idea the first time I was here. Although I never used it like that before," I remark, thinking of all my practice amounting to turning knobs and figuring locks.

Thor visibly relaxed. "I suppose 'tis alright if Father showed you. But about the whole strength thing-"

"'Alright if Father showed me?'" I copy, voice rising as his meaning sinks in. "You mean it is alright so long as it wasn't Loki. Go ahead and say it, that's what you mean and I can tell it by what I'm reading off of you right now." Although I don't see 'auras,' I get a sense of different colours, the feel of them based on what others are thinking or feeling, and right now Thor's is telling me he isn't being fully honest here.

"He's dangerous," Thor retorts, voice lowering in warning. "And as much as I love him I will not allow you to believe any lies he may tell."

"Yes, outright lies are wrong," I say, my voice rising in volume as Thor's dips in tone. "But lying by omission is just as bad, or worse!"

"What are you talking about?" He narrows his eyes in confusion and steps closer, meaning to set a hand on my shoulder but I dance backwards, out of reach.

"Who is Teir?" I ask, voice suddenly quiet again, as if the weight of my question brought it down.

A muscle in Thor's jaw ticks before he replies. "I know not a person by that name," he denies. The way his emotions cloud, I know immediately he is lying.

"You lie," I say, "how funny that this comes moments after you warn me about men who would tell me things that aren't true."

And before he can reply, I take off across the field, running as fast as I can, putting as much distance as I can between myself and a man I spent years believing I could trust.


	17. Chapter Sixteen

When I make my way down the stairs that are becoming all-too-familiar, I lack my usual dignified walk. I trod down the stairs in a slow rhythm of _thud, thud, thud_ as I step heavily on the steps. Without being prodded, I let myself into the cell but sit down on the nearby bench without saying a word, my back to him.

"How did your heart-to-heart with the almighty Thor fare?" He says, footsteps falling softly a few feet behind me.

I slump lower, my back curving inwards like a shell, the perfect picture of terrible posture. "Can we just agree that this is to be one of our quieter days?" I ask tiredly, bringing a hand to my mouth. I take a fingernail between my teeth, tempted to resume a bad habit I've fought for years.

"For all of their high and mighty demeanor," he continues, ignoring my plea, "they are no more honest than I. They just hide their lies behind pretty words and prettier manners and clothes."

"All that that means is you are all liars," I say quietly. "It doesn't change the fact that I can't trust you; it just means I cannot trust them, either."

"Maybe," Loki starts, his voice like silk, "if you would give me the chance, I could change that."

"Then tell me about Teir," I say, turning his words around on him. "Be the first to show me enough respect to tell me why I am here."

"You are here because of who you are," he says vaguely. "And while I could certainly tell you, there are some things you need to find out for yourself. As for Teir's prophesy, it has been centuries since I heard it told. I could tell you the basics of it, but prophesies usually mean more when spoken word for word. Teir's dead, of course, I told you as much yesterday. But you could ask his brother."

"Where might I find this brother of Teir?" I ask, not daring to hope that he'll tell me so easily.

Yet against all odds, he replies, "He is within the very same castle as we, and though very few know his family tree, I know it to be true that your Gatekeeper Heimdall shared a mother with the legendary soothsayer Teir."

I stand, immediately ready to track down the Gatekeeper but Loki makes a noise of protest.

"Ah, ah, ah," he says, shaking his head at me. "You are required to spend a full eight hours down here, and it has barely been two."

I sit back down dejectedly, fiddling with my fingernails. "If you wish to keep a girl's attention for a full eight hours, you must enthrall her," I say between bites. I feel guilty for starting this up again and stop when the first bit of nail comes loose.

"And how might I enthrall a creature such as you?" he says, the hint of amusement in his eyes assuring me he is listening.

"Tell me a story," I demand, sliding to a sitting position on the floor, the hard bench digging into my back as I lean against it.

"I have no stories," he replies, and for a moment I think I am wrong about his compliance.

"You have centuries of stories," I press, "And if none of those are any good, I am sure a creative master with words such as yourself could think up a half-decent story in six hours."

Almost despite himself, his lips turn up in amusement for a split second before sobering up. "Well," he says softly, "in your world, it was roughly 1450 A.D., though in mine Asgard looked exactly as it does now…"


	18. Chapter Seventeen

When I make my way back up the steps I trudged down just eight hours before, I feel vastly lighter, and can hardly believe that in all those hours stuck together, Loki and I never lulled into silence, something that before had been inevitable. I am in one of the best moods I've been in since arriving, and for once I find my appetite could be described by the old adage, 'I could eat a horse.'

Though my stomach is rumbling quietly to itself and even here, halfway to the surface I can smell the food from the banquet, I wind my way back to the place where Thor opened the portal in among the maze of halls below the surface. When I reach the place, it is completely empty, Gatekeeper Heimdall nowhere in sight.

I return to my rooms, expecting Naslund to be waiting, and instead find another gown, placed neatly over the back of the high-backed sofa in what I am beginning to regard as the royals' version of a normal mother calling, "Dinner time!" I make a mental note to let someone know I'm a little too old for this.

Nevertheless, I shower quickly and actually dry my hair, spending more time than usual styling it into half-decent curls before I wiggle my way into the latest creation to waltz into my room uninvited.

Even I, who spent virtually my whole childhood in cut-offs and coveralls, can appreciate the beauty of the dress. Though it is strapless, it doesn't feature the standard sweetheart neckline, instead it is one o those that comes straight across, only to be prevented from meeting in the middle by a little notch in the center. The bodice is skin-tight and almost impossible to get into without someone to zip up the back, but I manage. The skirt is fitted as well but leaves a little more room, gradually, gracefully flowing out to the floor as the blue fades into black.

As is to be expected, there is a pair of glittery black heels by the door but as the hem of the dress is black anyways I slip back into my own boots with a shrug. You can take the girl from the backwoods…

It looks like everyone is seated in the same places as the last supper I attended, and much to my chagrin this places me between a rock and a hard place. Or, more accurately, an awkward place and a Thor. I make a point of avoiding his gaze and instead turn to my other side and strike up conversation with Odin and Frigga's son Tyr, the one 'brave' enough to stick his hand in the mouth of the wolf-god Fenris, and as a result, sits beside me minus one hand. As the god of war, his idea of conversation and mine differ greatly, but it is a small price to pay to be given a reason to avoid Thor.

Odin gives a little ditty before we eat, but it isn't overly important; namely, he hasn't swooped in to place a crown on my head or assign me to hang out with any other lawbreakers, so I pay him no mind once the food is brought forward to be served.

Being a hearty eater, once the food is out, Thor is easily enough distracted and I find myself making small-talk with Sif. But when dessert is finished, I can't escape fast enough.

"Angelia," he begins, dropping his shoulders as if to humble himself. If I was simply irritated at him, that simple gesture, so grand coming from the Crown Prince of Asgard, would have instantly begged my forgiveness. As it is, I don't wait to hear him out.

"Do you know where I might find Gatekeeper Heimdall?" I interrupt, keeping my voice polite and at a dinner party volume.

"He is often to be found where we came out of the portal," he says, momentarily distracted by the fact that I am suddenly speaking to him again.

"I already checked there," I say, dismissing his comment. "Where else?"

"Well, you could try the end of the old Bifrost Bridge," he says, and instantly I remember that that is where I last saw the Gatekeeper. I stand to leave, not caring if I break the proper protocol of staying to visit. I am fully prepared to eat and run when Sif speaks up.

"You won't find him there," she casually puts in, examining her nails. "For whatever reason, Heimdall requested an LOA-"

"Leave of absence," Thor puts in. I give him a look like, "well, naturally."

Sif continues as if he never butted in – "and King Odin approved it. Old fellow must have needed a break."

"Well, there you have it," Thor says cheerfully, "that is settled. You might as well sit back down, Angelia. Tonight there is to be a dance. They generally require the entire royal family to be in attendance, and that includes you now." He actually smiles, as though my being included in that term – 'royal family' – is a good thing.

So I sit and sulk while everyone around me chatters mindlessly, until the king signals for the assembly to migrate to the empty portion of the room. The lights slowly dim as we all move like a herd to the floor.

Nearby, the accompanying music starts. The symphony is so much more breathtaking than any human talent I've ever heard; the melody is perfectly in tune and sets a structured mood in the room, as they all begin to pair up.

Thor holds his hand out to me, but I am saved from the scene I am about to cause by none other than Naslund.

"The man who spends all night dancing with the most beautiful young lady in the room should at least leave the honour of her first dance to another," he says with a wink. For an old man, it's kind of cute I must admit. Although the moment is soured by the implication that I am to spend an entire night with the person I most wish to strangle currently.

Naslund takes the lead with an ease I credit to the probably thousands of years he's spent attending gala events such as this. "Imagine my surprise when you weren't waiting in my rooms with yet another complicated piece of artwork when I returned this evening," I say with a smile that hasn't come this easily since before I sat down to dinner.

"The next part is quite a bit simpler," he says with an equally easy smile. "If you have an hour to spare tomorrow morning before you are required to join Thor out in the yard, I can show you how to work the spell. After that, the strengthening of your barrier is all in practice. As you become more adept with the magic and more familiar with the spell, it will become stronger."

"Shall I meet you at six?" I ask, gliding easily past Thor and Sif. I find my mood dips again when I notice how caught up in him she is, while he doesn't seem to notice that he is dancing with anyone more than a long-time friend.

"Six is good. The main library shall be quiet enough at that hour, if you know your way."

"Of course," I laugh, catching his humour. Many entire days were spent in the main library during my seventeenth year, and it had been a secret to no one.

When Thor approaches me for the next dance, I accept as per dance protocol.

He, too, is a remarkable dancer, his personality coming out in the way he holds firmly, taking large powerful steps across the room. He isn't a fluid dancer, the way Loki might-

"I truly am sorry, Angel," he says in a contrite tone, yanking me from my taboo thoughts. "To be honest, as I should have been this morning, the man called Teir is dead, and has been for many, many years."

"That may be so," I reply, "but his words live on, and whether you choose to believe in them or not, I at least deserve to know my part in this, if I really am involved. And the only person I know who can recite, word for word, the prophecy, is Heimdall."

"If it is this important to you, dear friend, I will summon Heimdall home tomorrow. Within a matter of days you will have the answers you need."

We both know this is the proverbial olive branch and in the spirit of forgiveness, I take it, just as the song ends. At just the right moment Sif and Fandral swing by, and I cut in, leaving Sif to dance again with Thor. I finish out the song, and before anyone can pinpoint my location, I slip out of the stuffy hall and into the grand, empty corridor.


	19. Chapter Eighteen

**Thank you also to whoever happened to be named 'Reader97' for the review. Much appreciated.**

For possibly the first time in my life, I am early to a morning meeting. I am eager to learn to construct my own barrier so I can safely remove Odin's and begin learning from Loki, if he is indeed serious about teaching me.

I steer clear of the newer section of the library and venture into the dusty back rows, walking among shelves I rarely chose books from last time. In among the dusty tomes I know many biographies are located, and I am inspired to search for a certain glorified fortune teller's book. Luckily, the thousands of books are sorted alphabetically, according to the Asgard language, a language I studied extensively on my first visit to the realm.

I move down several shelves without finding any title that could include his final prophesy, until – bingo – a book seems to pop out at me from the top shelf. I slide it out of its place, wiping the dust off the cover before I open it, the protesting creak that follows is another sign that the book has been neglected for countless years.

It takes a few pages for me to readjust to the different language, but eventually I am gliding the pages at a reasonable pace, scanning for any prophesy that could match what I'd been told. It is nearly six when I stop what I'm doing and flip straight to the back of the book. If this so-called prophesy of the trio was uttered on the man's deathbed, chances were it would be the last in the book.

I don't find the words typed in ink upon the final page of the book; instead, I happen to glance at the last page, the blank filler page that is typically found, even back home. Only this one has writing on it, written in what looks like a hurried script.

I glance at the ceiling, as if to thank whoever is the library god for my good fortune before I bow my head back to the book. Before I can begin to read, though, I hear the library door swing open. Naslund. With an instinct I can't justify or reason, I rip out the filler page and tuck it into the pocket in the lining of my jacket, replacing the book as Naslund rounds the corner.

"Lady Angelia," he says pleasantly, his tone holding an undertone of surprise I return the greeting as he steps forward. "I didn't expect to find you in this stuffy old corner. What could possibly drive you to mingle with these sad old books?" without waiting for a response he steps closer; it's obvious which book I'd taken down, namely the only one no longer coated in dust.

"Teir, huh," he says with hardly a glance. "I can assure you, there are much better stories even within this section. Perhaps I could point some out to you after we have our lesson. Why don't we head back towards the doors, into the open area? I believe it will be the best spot for what we will be doing."

"The trick," he says, once we push aside a couple of the tables, "is to picture a wall between you and whatever you are trying to keep at bay. This is where the concentration comes in; the more you focus on the wall, the stronger it will be. As long as you focus on your image, and the less your opponent knows about what shape your wall may take, the better chance you have of holding them behind it. Take a moment to construct a wall."

I close my eyes and picture a tall brick wall, thousands of bricks high. In the interest of strength, I pick a newly constructed look, unmarked bricks, not a single one crumbling or worn. "Okay," I say, opening my eyes, the wall still in the back of my mind.

"Now imagine that wall between you and I," he says, picking up a book. I am so surprised that he's toss a book around like that that I drop my barrier and reach out to catch the book, its fluttering pages snapping shut against the covers as I set it on a nearby table.

"You have to pretend these aren't books. Pretend I am a frost giant, throwing balls of their icy magic at you. Concentrate on the wall, not the flying books."

And so I bring up the image again, but the book flies through it as if it isn't even there. I am so stunned by this that I allow the book to fly straight into my face, connecting solidly with my nose. Looking at Naslund in a stunned manner, I bring a hand to my nose, pleasantly surprised to find it isn't bleeding or broken, merely throbbing angrily.

"Remember when I said it was the unique look of your barrier that would hold back enemies? You picked the most stereotypical image out there," he says, not pausing to ask if I am ok as he plucks another book off of the shelf. "The more original you make your wall, the harder it will be to get through. Try again, only be a little more creative this time."

I screw up my face in concentration, picturing a new wall. The second one is going to be made of stone," I decide. Different sizes of stone, little ones wedged between the bigger ones to form a solid wall. The stones will be gray – I stop myself. Gray would by too typical for a stone wall. I imagine a wall of green; not just the dark green that flickers through my mind all too often, but a cascade of greens, some almost black, while others reflect the refreshing spring shade, light and new. In a fit of inspiration, I decide the stones aren't stones at all; they are stone-sized chunks of green crystal and gemstones, glistening in the sun. On second thought, my wall shimmers less brightly; I decide on a moonlit look, like the Bifrost Bridge after sundown.

"Okay," I say again. Without waiting to be told, I throw the version of the wall out, choosing a spot about a foot ahead of me. I put as much magical force as I can muster into my barrier, and am almost surprised that my strenuous effort doesn't result in a lifelike version where I am directing my thoughts to. Although if it worked like that, my wall wouldn't need to be original, since everyone nearby would see it anyway.

This time, the book sails through the air, stopping suddenly at the point I chose. I withdraw my thoughts as it hits the ground as though it really did hit a solid wall of crystals.

Naslund even looks impressed. "Well, that's something else," he says, the book flying back to its spot as he snaps a finger. "It has been ages since any student of mine mastered that spell so quickly. Well done, Princess."

I can't help the self-satisfied smirk I feel forming on my face. Naslund congratulates me again before I take my leave and practically skip out into the yard, feeling for the first time in weeks as though I can actually do something useful properly.

.*

"Now today we are going to-" Thor begins, but I interrupt before he can tell me what kind of torture he has planned for the day.

"Can you just throw stuff at me for today?" I ask, winning a strange look from him. "Naslund just showed me that barrier spell and I'd like to work at strengthening it," I explain, images of the wall I thought up flickering in the back of my mind, anxious to be cast out again.

"I suppose," he says slowly, "although only for today. You won't be perfect at it in the first while, and from now on, you will have to practice in your own time. Show me what you've got," he says, stepping back a few feet.

I focus on a point just in front of me and throw all my concentration into constructing the wall at the focal point. Thor gives out a warning call and rather than throw anything, he charges straight at me. Surprised, I almost forget about the wall but thankfully I regain my composure before he gets too close.

I must say, I've never seen any god crumple the way Thor does. He gets up, and, setting his face into a frown, he charges again, resulting in the same end. Never one to accept defeat, Thor agrees to dedicate today to testing my strength. In this, he is no challenge to me and he ends the session four hours later very frustrated and likely sore.

"I think we shall return to physical training tomorrow," Thor says as we walk back to the castle. I notice a couple of women basking in the shade of the building, who follow us with their eyes as we pass. They certainly look the type to gossip, and as their eyes bore holes through the back of my head, I can only imagine the sorts of things they are imagining up for the rumour mills.

"If you were as physically strong as you are mentally," Thor is saying when we turn the corner and I no longer am distracted by the women, "you would be unstoppable in any situation. I have never seen anything like that. Even Loki took weeks to build that kind of strength!"

"Well, to be honest," I say, flushing with pleasure at the compliment, "I _have_ been practising for weeks. Say, Thor, have you requested Heimdall's return yet?"

"No, not yet. I shall do that the moment I return to the castle." He turns and smiles at me, happy to do me a favour. I almost don't want to tell him to forget it, but Heimdall deserves a break, so I clear my throat.

"Well, about that," I say, "I think I may have found another way to find Teir's prophesy. You don't have to disrupt Heimdall's vacation for me. But thank you," I say apologetically, "for offering to. I am very grateful."

"You are always welcome, my friend." Thor smiles again and I can see when he does, what my sister fell for in him. Even among the gods, few souls are as pure and good as this man's, and I walk with him gladly back to the castle, thankful for this friend every step of the way.


	20. Chapter Nineteen

As the guards have been doing lately, when I step down onto the flooring deep underground, they nod and move past me upwards, having been given the green light for a break, I suppose. Either way, it gives me the freedom to pull out the paper as I walk, squinting at the words until I have enough of the tesseract's light to read by.

I had resisted the urge to read it in my room before coming down, but I feel as though I owe it to Loki to wait until he can hear it again, too. After all, if he hadn't told me of it in the first place, I wouldn't have even ventured back into the older section of the library at all.

So once I can make out the man standing at the gate, I begin.

_"When the colours three_

_Red, blue, green_

_One a Prince of righteous birth_

_One a man of darkest mirth"_

At the words, his head snaps up to watch me as I make my way slowly towards him, eyes keeping to the paper's scrawl.

_"Fate brings the two_

_A hope, anew_

_The daughter of marriage_

_Half-mortal, disparaged_

_Golden girl of blue"_

"Is that why they dress me in blue?" I ask, breaking off for a moment as I continue, the light from the Tesseract now much closer and brighter. Loki doesn't answer; instead he simply motions for me to continue.

_"She who must choose_

_Be it red or be it green_

_One must be chosen by marine_

_The chosen one, offspring to rule_

_O'er Asgard, descendants of Bellefeuille"_

When I finish, I am standing in front of the gate, looking up at him. I slip the paper back into the jacket without taking my eyes from his.

"Does that not answer all your questions?" He says, breaking the stretching silence.

"I don't know anyone called _Bellefeuille_," I say, "and my parents never married." I let myself into the cell, this time without waiting for Loki to step away. It is a test of sorts, and as he doesn't take a single step, I relax, pocketing the key as I relax. This time, he has passed.

"Think about it," Loki says, turning on his heel to face me again. I turn away, finding it easier to think when his unsettling green eyes are out of sight.

"Half mortal…" I muse, fumbling with the paper as I take it out to scan the words again. I turn towards the gate for light and it's as if a light bulb has settled above my head. "Daughter of marriage. Half-mortal, daughter of the _goddess_ of marriage?"

I look to Loki for confirmation, and he rolls his eyes. "And you expect to learn all I know within a year."

"Well, I could stick around after my time's up if I feel there's more you can teach me," I say, as if that option is obvious.

"I think we both know that a year from now, you will be crying over my grave." He speaks with such a quiet certainty I turn to watch him, prophesy forgotten in my hand. "Or possibly dancing, whichever."

"I don't know any such thing," I say, stepping forward. "That isn't the way it has to happen. If you would make amends-"

"I will not!" He roars, every line in his face taut with anger. "They never accepted me before all of this, what makes you think that even if – and that's a monumentally big if – I make my peace with my family, anyone else in the whole realm will decide to suddenly accept me? They couldn't approve of the misfit child, why would they ever trust the evil frost giant, the god of lies, the loose cannon? This place isn't home to me, and these people aren't mine. Have them play my favourite song at the funeral at least, Angel."

I don't know what I am planning until I am doing it; I cross the barrier, feeling it disintegrate as I do. Before Loki even realizes what I've done, I am standing inches in front of him, and without thinking I shove him backwards, hard.

"Quit talking so stupidly," I hiss, before Loki has a moment to figure out what I've done. "If you think I will just let you lay down and die, you are wrong. And at least some of those people are yours; in case you didn't realize, when you referred to your family, you called them just that. You can tell yourself you no longer care, but don't try to fool me."

"Every last one of them wanted me dead," he says, voice dangerously soft. "Out of every advisor in the realm, only you were willing to defend me to the court. Only you come down here every day – and don't tell me it is because you must. We both know that at any time you could simply up and leave, go back to the little hovel in the mountains you so dearly love. Tell me, little girl, why are you still here? And why do you think I am so trustworthy? For you must, to take down your handy little wall."

At the last, he steps forward until we are standing toe-to-toe. I swallow and fight the urge to back away. I fight the urge to move in closer, too. "You aren't one of them," I say. The way his jaw sets I realize he's mistaken my meaning. "You're not a frost giant. Not since the day Odin brought you from Jotunheim have you belonged there. Maybe you see the truth that was kept from you for so long and you think yourself a monster. You're no more than what you grew up to be, Loki, an Odinson. A great magician, yes - but nothing more than a man."

Rather than acknowledging all I've said, he steps back. His face is a blank slate; I can't tell what he is thinking, until he speaks. "If you're done with your speech, now is as good a time as any if you want to learn to control your gift," he says, outwardly unaffected by my words.

"Can we start with copying?" I ask, deciding it's better to drop the subject for now.

"Copying?"

"Yeah," I say, fighting the urge to laugh at his confusion. "That thing you are famous for, copying yourself."

"_Projecting_ myself," he corrects. I think I see his mouth twitch as though fighting the urge to smile. "That's a long ways away from your level. Like everyone else, you must start at the bottom. Now, step back. I will show you what we will work on today."


	21. Chapter Twenty

**Thank you to those who have followed/faved this story since my last update, and also to the 'Guest' who took the time to leave a few words. Always appreciated :)**

.*

I am glad tonight to find that this morning was the end of the sessions with Naslund, as I finally find time to truly study the prophesy. I read the page in full before what Loki told me earlier hits me like a ton of bricks.

_The daughter of the _goddess_ of marriage,_ he had said.

Thor doesn't bother to knock as he enters the room, interrupting my sudden epiphany. "I have come to tell you, dinner is to be in the private dining room in a half hour. No need for fine clothes, it is a meal between family so-" he breaks off as he notes the creased paper in my hand. "What have you there?"

I hold the paper out wordlessly, and he takes it, scanning the verses. "Ah," he says, much more somberly than a moment ago. "You have found the complete telling. I hadn't known it was written down at all."

"I found it in the library this morning, scrawled on the last page of a published book of other prophesies by Teir. Tell me, Thor, did you know that the Queen is my mother, if I am indeed the girl in the prophesy?"

"I was truthful when I told you I knew not the full wording of the darned thing," he says, face open and honest.

"What is the meaning of these words, Thor? What is your understanding of Teir's final prediction?"

"The prophecy tells of a girl, half-human, who would ultimately choose between myself and Loki; though it has already been determined that I will take the throne upon Father's passing, it is said that the offspring of that girl will succeed the throne after me, whether she marries myself or mine brother."

"I don't plan on marrying either of you," I say immediately. "No offense, Thor."

"None taken," he replies easily. "Prophesies turn out to be false all the time; this one may never come to pass in any case. Now, join me for supper; you can ask Mother if that is indeed the meaning of the verse."

I leave him in the sitting room and close myself into the bedroom, and take stock of the contents of the closet. Nearly every garment in there has some sort of blue worked in. I choose instead to don my own garments, as I did the first day I spent below with Loki. Sometimes a girl needs little pieces of her life to remind her just who she is

.*

The group assembled in the much smaller dining room are in high spirits; I am second-from-last to arrive, beating only Odin himself. I take my place as far from the head of the table as I can, trying to dsitacne myself from the Queen even as I fight the urge to bombard her with questions, namely, _are you my mother? _And _why did you abandon me only to drag me back with lies?_

Though I can't say I have much experience when it comes to dining with royals, I don't think this type of questioning would really be appropriate.

Even Vidar is present, the result of Odin's tryst with a storm giant. I've only met Vidar once before, since he works as a farmer and warrior out in the mountains. He is sitting next to me on the end of the table; with his ancestry, Vidar stands at about ten feet tall and so needs more room than anyone else at the table. Being a bit less battle-oriented than Balder and the other brothers, I am satisfied to make small talk with him as we await Odin's entrance.

"Well," Odin says, about fifteen minutes after I arrive; I recognize the voice though my back is to the door. "Now that we are all present, we shall begin."

Balder and his brother Hermod, both of whom face the door sit with incredulous looks on their faces. "Loki, bother," Thor manages to say, and at that, I turn to see for myself as do Tyr and Vidar, and out gazes are met with the stony, challenging look plastered on Loki's face. He looks to be ready to act on the defensive should occasion arise. Judging the look on Tyr's face, I worry that the dinner won't end peacefully.

Thor stands and moves to the pair entering the room. He sets a hand on Loki's back supportively and moves to guide him to the empty chair on the other side of the table, opposite me, but Loki jerks away from the touch. "Are you so worried I might attack that you must escort me all the way to my seat? Am I not to be trusted to cross such a distance on my own?"

"No-" Tyr begins, the hostility in his voice unavoidable. I take the liberty of digging my elbow into his ribs; not normally a very good move against a well-trained god, but with his attention fully devoted to another it is too easy. And it does the job, effectively silencing him as he turns to confront me.

I don't give him a chance to whine at me, holding a hand up to signal for silence from him. For whatever reason, possibly sheer surprise, he is muted by the gesture. "He is simply making his show of solidarity with his brother," I direct at Loki. "Now shut up and let him do it; I am hungry and you've kept me waiting long enough as it is."

Without waiting for a response I turn back to the table, only to be presented with odd looks from the men already seated at the table. I shoot them a warning look back, purposely avoiding Frigga's gaze in the interest of keeping calm. Thor and Loki do indeed move around the table to the empty chair. Loki gracefully takes his place, though he ignores Thor once seated.

I shrug at Thor as he mvoes to his own seat, as if to say _what can you do? _Thor returns the gesture with a half-smile as servants sweep in, golden trays of food in their hands.

A male servant with skin of bronze and doe-brown eyes sets a plate in front of me, lifting the lid as he catches my eye, and gives a subtle wink.

"My, the palace staff has acquired such a slovenly form of conduct," Loki says, obviously noting the servant's gesture. "There was a time the food was served and they were removed from a room before the food became cold."

Well aware that the chastisement was directed at him, the man takes his leave, though the last of the servants are still serving. I give Loki a hard look, not appreciating his intervention, whether or not I had been interested in the servant in the first place. He doesn't have the audacity to look apologetic.

Keeping my head down, I pick at my food while the others converse among themselves. My plate, full to overflowing with some of Asgard's most famous fares remains virtually untouched, though not because of the cooks. Being a picky eater isn't something I chose to be.

However, with my concentration not on my plate, I have more chance to watch those around me. Odin, eating away at the head of the table sits sagely, for the most part keeping out of the conversation. Frigga supportively nods and encourages her sons, bringing up another subject when there are lulls. Unsurprisingly, most of the men at the table ignore Loki's presence completely; only Thor makes attempts to bring him into the conversation, though Loki seems to want to be involved as much as the others do; read, not at all.

"I thought you were hungry," Loki comments after I've pushed food around on my plate for a few more minutes.

"It's probably just nerves, brother," Thor says, having heard Loki's words during a lull in his own conversations. "She's got a lot on her shoulders tonight; hopefully by dinner's end we may all breathe easier, with some family questions answered."

I shoot Thor a look hard enough to get through even to the god of thunder and he closes his mouth.

"Ah," Loki says, seeing my look and choosing to ignore it. "More prophesy stuff."

By this point all the faces at the table are turned in to our conversation, Odin especially paying attention, his head snapping up at the word 'prophesy.'

"Would you all just let me eat!" I say, doing my best to keep under control. As if to emphasize my words, I force a forkful of the meat portion into my mouth. I chew slowly, trying not to gag when I find the meat to be very rich in fat.

"Which prophesy is on your mind?" Odin asks, and though his voice is casual, he must know what is going on.

"It's nothing," I say, at exactly the time Loki responds.

"Teir's final prophesy," he says, obviously enjoying the change in expression on both Odin's and Frigga's faces. "The prophesy of the trio."

When neither speaks right away, Loki continues. "The daughter of marriage, Half-mortal, disparaged; golden girl of blue, she who must-"

"We know the words," Frigga interrupts, her voice strained. When she says no more I feel my temper rise, the same feeling I felt that first day of the trial when the whole room spoke for execution. Despite the mess _that_ outburst has gotten me into, I jump right into the silence.

"You know the words," I repeat, voice dangerously level. "And yet, you never thought, in twenty-two years, that I might like to know, about anything? About everything?" Other than Loki and Thor, the other princes all look between me and the Queen, sneaking occasional glances at their brothers.

"Angelia," she says, speaking slowly like people do when trying not to set off someone on the verge of snapping. "All these years I've only wanted the best for you-"

"No," I say forcefully, cutting her off. "All these years you've lied to me! Why would you abandon only me on Earth – Midgard, whatever – and none of your other children? Was it because I wasn't born a man, is that it? And why, _why_ would you let me spend a year in your home and _continue to lie the whole time?"_

"I never wanted to hurt you," she tries again, but I stand abruptly, my chair falling backwards, clattering to the floor. The echo vibrates around the room, bringing an end to the light family dinner they had planned.

"You have never done anything but!" I cry, and before anyone can make sense of what just happened, I spin to face the door and take off walking. I am halfway down the hall when I hear the faint sounds of uproar in the room, and so I don't stop when I reach my stairway; I make my escape with only one destination in mind.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One

**Thank yous x ****3**** to the latest reviewer, SkittlesShadukeXD for breaking her no-review rule and making my day - and a little off-topic, for being a fellow Fruits Basket fan and Trencher (Um, could you BE any more awesome?!) ;) **

**Also as an update to the chapter before I even publish it, thank you to the _other_ reviewers, the fantabulous EnyaandEathenyl, the awesome CuteSango07 (and that's an interesting idea, an evil 'Angel' ehehe but don't worry, it does and she won't), and last but not least, the superb AutumnLover :) **

**You have no idea how retarded I am when a new review shows up, you guys make my life _so_ much better (is that sad? One little review and I'm giggling like a kid in Sex Ed. Every. Single. Time) - So keep reviewing!**

**Hope this chapter lives up to everyone's expectations, and thank you for reading!**

.*

I lay on what I think of as the 'edge of the world,' feet hanging a few inches off the edge. The cool feel of the crystal seeping through my leather jacket to linger on my skin calming in a way I don't expect. Before long, I feel the anger begin to fade, leaving me with only a deep-seated feeling of hurt and the sense that I truly don't know who I am anymore.

"You are pitifully easy to track," a familiar voice says. Turning my head to the right, I take in the pair of black men's' boots inches from my face.

"Did you make an escape or something?" I say, not bothering to look up at the man himself before turning my eyes again to the sky.

"Father agreed to let me take a little walk," Loki replies, remaining on his feet. I banish the thought that had it been Thor there, he'd already have laid down next to me. Loki isn't Thor, I remind myself. It's something I normally remember all too well.

"He is beginning to trust again," I say, happiness at that thought erasing my own feelings for the moment.

Loki laughs at the thought. "He only agreed to let me go if I let him strip me of my abilities until I return to the castle. I am as helpless as a human as of now, just as you are. It is disgusting."

"I'd take offense, but seeing as how I am only half-human, apparently, your words don't bother me. If you're going to spend your free time bothering me, you might as well take a seat, relax a little."

"These days, I relax entirely too much," he retorts, but he settles into a sitting position next to me.

I say no more and we stay like that for a while, Loki sitting, back ramrod straight, and I flopped straight out on the old bridge, both staring out at the sky. It's surprising to me, that we can stay like this without insulting each other or arguing. At one time I wouldn't have guessed in a million years that we'd end up here together almost as…friends.

"Thank you," I say, sitting up. Even sitting straight, I have to look up at him. "If it wasn't for you, I still wouldn't know who I am – _what_ I am."

"You'd have figured it out," he says, rather than lord it over me that he was the key to all of this. "It might have taken you a century, but being a demigoddess, you have more than that."

"I don't want that much time," I say, running a finger over the bitten nail. "How do you fill so many years with meaning?"

"Well, you live much like the humans do; dream like you have forever," Loki says quietly, leaning in closer, "and live like all you have is this day."

I can't look away from his emerald eyes, so close to mine. I don't doubt he can hear my heart beating like wings against glass. Before I've even decided what I want to do, I close the distance between us – and take his mouth with mine.

I feel him stiffen in shock, his mouth unresponsive for a beat, but rather than push me away, his hand comes up to hold the back of my head, pulling me in closer. When he finally pulls away, I don't think I'll ever be capable of thinking straight again.

"It is undoubtedly in your best interest to pretend that never happened," he says, and though he appears calm enough, his voice has a rough edge, like someone took a razor through its silk and left a jagged tear. "If anyone knew, all of Asgard would treat you as though you were a leper."

"Do you honestly think I care what they think?" I ask, honestly sort of angry that he would assume that what anyone thought would change my mind about him. "If they'd all shun me for simply wanting you, they weren't worth my time to begin with."

The corner of his mouth jerks up into a smirk. "So you want me, little girl?" he leans in close again. I am starting to find correlation between his proximity and how fast my heart beats. "Have you ever been with a god? Has anyone showed you what we're capable of?"

Ignoring the question, cheeks flaming in the dark, I respond, "You're a long way from that point yet. There are standards, you know. First there is to be flowers, among other token gifts, and of course the standard three dates. Not to mention the whole 'meet-the-parents' thing which could be a little awkward seeing as how we apparently share them." I am rambling, unsettled by what he's hinting at.

"Do you think I'm the type to do any of that?"

"Do you think I'm the type to simply lay down and spread my legs?" I retort.

"I think I could convince you that you are," he says, so sure of himself. Before I can think of something to say to that, he's kissing me again, and any hope of an argument disappears as I absolutely melt.

When he finally pulls away, I automatically reach for him, but he stands, grabbing my outstretched hand and pulling me up with him. "You had better scurry back to the castle," he says, "before you do more that you'd regret." His voice is laced with guarded emotion, the defenses between us apparently back in place.

I turn to look at him, my pace almost at a jog as I try to match his pace back towards the castle. "I regret nothing," I say, and even I am surprised by the ferocity of my tone. I look away from him, towards the city. "I'll walk with you to your room." I reach for his hand, as if to back up my words with the childish gesture, and beyond all odds, he doesn't withdraw his hand until we reach the end of the bridge and step back into the crowded city.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Thank you to absolutely everyone who has read through this far. Considering this started as such a small idea in my head, it's come a long way (especially considering I tend to drop ideas long before this point), thanks in great part to everyone who has clicked on my story and encouraged me to continue, through favouriting, following, reviewing, and even just reading. **

**Speaking of reading, you all should really check out u/4118336/EnyaandEathenyl for a couple of great Avengers stories. And make sure you let her know what you think, and encourage her to write more!**

**That is all.**

.*

I practically run away the moment Loki is back in his cell, plans of hiding from my feelings in my own room for the next century forming in my mind. Unfortunately, my plans don't factor in Thor, who I very nearly run straight into at the bottom of the tower staircase.

"Angel," he says, speaking much more carefully than usual. "Are you all right?"

I shrug. "I suppose so."

"Do you want to talk at all? To Mother, or even just to me, should you need to – how do you put it – let it get off of your chest?"

"Not particularly," I say, itching to escape up the stairs. Yet when I try to take the first step up, Thor grabs my arm - not roughly, just enough to make me pause and turn.

"Five minutes," he asks – pleads.

"She could have had five minutes out of any of the past twenty-two years," I say coldly, my back straight with agitation; but I allow Thor to lead me back to the dining hall. "Five minutes and I'm out of here," I warn him, just before he guides me into the room. Thor doesn't reply, merely gives an attempt at a reassuring smile as the Queen stands to speak.

"Just to clarify, you have five minutes," I say, before she can get a word in, "starting now."

"Angelia," she says, so softly it brings to mind a vulnerable fawn. "I want you to know, I've always loved you-"

"What a strange way to show that," I say, unfeelingly. "Now, maybe gods raise their children a little differently, but where I'm from, a good mother raises her child herself. She doesn't step in once said child is grown and claim to love her. No way, nuh uh, not in a million years."

"Haven't you ever wondered about me?" she says next, trying a different tactic. "Didn't you ever wish you had a chance to know your mother? Come, let us put aside the past, Angelia, I want to get to know my beautiful daughter."

I shake my head, amazed that she thinks simply admitting that she's my mother, only after I've already confronted her about it, is good enough to earn back the chance to have a relationship as special as the one a daughter is supposed to share with her mother.

"Let me set you straight," I say, holding eye contact. It's unnerving to suddenly realize that her own blue-gray eyes match mine, shade for shade. "I grew up just fine without a mother – I learned to tie my shoes, bake cookies, and do my own hair for prom all on my own. I didn't need you then, and I sure as hell don't need you now. I just wanted to make that clear. It has been a long day and I believe I will retire to my rooms now. Good night, Thor, King Odin. Queen Frigga."

This time, I make my way all the way up to my rooms without a single interruption, and once in bed I soon fall asleep, images of the man dressed in green and black interchanging with a plainly dressed Frigga putting a baby wrapped in pink into a cradle and disappearing, leaving only images of green and black as I sink even deeper into sleep.

.*

When I wake up it is still dark, the room cloaked in shadows. I have the uncanny feeling that something is horribly wrong, though the room is calm and quiet. I reach over towards the nightstand, planning to arm myself with the dagger normally kept in the top drawer, but a chillingly close voice stops me.

"Move another inch and I'll kill you where you lay." I freeze instantly, hand halfway to the drawer. The voice is unfamiliar, and I don't dare turn around for fear that he'll attack, whoever he is.

"I thought it was pretty obvious that these are private rooms," I say. It's all I can do to keep the trembling from my voice. "Might I ask who is bothering me so late at night?"

"Who is bothering you, or what?" He replies. I hear footsteps as he moves around to the other side of the bed, and I gasp when I see the tall, blue form luring menacingly in the shadows. "Hello, _Angel_. I am your worst nightmare."

I am scrambling to remember every detail of my wall in my muddled mind as I reply. "Funny, you don't look like a clown," I say, throwing up the barrier seconds before the frost giant lunges.

"We can do this the easy way," he grunts, struggling to stay on his feet as the force field throws him backwards. "Or we can do this the hard way."

"Exactly," I say, as he hits the wall again. "So you can either leave while you have the chance or prepare for a very painful experience."

I slide open the drawer and close my hand around the handle of the dagger before I drop the wall and sprint for the bedroom door, while the giant is getting to his feet after the most recent attempt to reach me. I slam the door behind me and quickly cast the spell Naslund taught me to keep a door shut. I turn around to face the rest of the room, vastly relieved to be safe, and that's when the second giant chooses to slam me into the wall.

After just one hit, I am seeing stars, raking air desperately into my lungs, the wind knocked out of me. The giant brings a knee up, meaning to smash in my head, but I bring my hand up and sink the small blade into his knee. I scramble to my feet as he howls in pain. Dizzily, I throw out the wall again, though I am so disoriented from the blow that the wall succeeds only in causing the giant to stumble.

With a crack, I watch in horror as the first frost giant crashes through the bedroom door. In a panic, I try again to erect the barrier, concentrating on a spot between me and the giants. I close my eyes and scramble to remember the exact image of the wall. I am rewarded for my efforts when one of the beasts tries to move forward only to run smack-dab into the barrier. I can't help but laugh, it reminds me of a Windex commercial back home, one where an animal walks straight into a sliding glass door.

Laughing only seems to anger them more, so I quiet down, focussing instead on getting some answers. "What are you two doing in my rooms?"

"We have orders," one says, at the same time the other growls, "you don't need to know."

"Who gave you these orders?" I demand, inwardly amused at the differing answers. However, this time both decide to deny me information. I pick up a vase and hurl it at them, unsatisfied as it shatters upon impact, causing no damage to the giant's thick hide.

I pick up the end table it had been sitting on and rip one of the legs off, using my mind to force it apart when I find I am not strong enough to snap it. "I'll as nicely once more," I say, attempting my own growly tone.

Both giants lunge for the barrier again, obviously not intimidated by my scare tactic. I remove a part of the wall, allowing one giant to make it through before sealing the barrier again. He is thrown off-guard by the ease with which he manages to reach me, and I use that surprise to make the most of my swing, timing it like a batter who has one chance to avoid striking out. I am well-satisfied at the resounding _crack_.

Not giving him a chance to retaliate, I inwardly gather up my strength and mentally push him up and away from me. I am stronger than I realize, I think, as he sails up and across the room, crashing through the large picture window and out into the night.

Not stopping to gape at the unexpected event, I turn to the remaining intruder. "Perhaps now you would tell me, who sent you here?"

Instead of answering, he turns to flee. In a fit of inspiration, I alter the wall to form a circle around the beast, trapping him in place. He feels around unsuccessfully for an escape, and then meets my gaze, he red eyes burning into my own blue-gray pair. I lift my chin, giving him no chance to intimidate me.

"It would seem we've reached an impasse," the monster growls. "You cannot leave without losing control of the magic circle you've locked me in, and I won't submit to your questioning locked up in such a manner. Free me now, and I'll think about letting you live. We both know you cannot hold this wall up for much longer."

"You'll think about letting _me_ live? I don't believe you've sent me sailing out of a window yet. Funny, I believe I might've done so with another creature as _repulsive_ as you," I retort, before crossing the room to the door to the stairs. He is right about one thing, I can feel my magic hold on the wall weakening, having not ever used so much of it at one time. Now knowing what else to do, and not willing to toss a second creature out of a window, I fill my lungs with air, readying myself.

"Thor!" I shout – scream, really. I can only hope my voice carries down two stair flights to him. "Thor!"


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Sorry if this instalment seems a bit short, it just seemed like a good place to break off at, before Loki is put back in the picture. You can count on that first thing in the next chapter, no worries!**

.*

Much to my relief, within moments I can hear the ringing of footsteps as someone climbs to my aid. I have never been so glad to see anyone as I am when Thor's golden head appears a few steps down. For whatever reason, Naslund appears too, apparently having been below with Thor at the right time.

"By the gods," Thor swears. I can't help but find it ironic. "Do you know what this is?"

"Of course," I say, somewhat offended that he feels he should ask such a question. "Some refer to them as frost giants, the creatures that inhabit the rather cold realm of Jotunheim. I however, refer to them as rather large pains in my ass."

Apparently intelligent enough to know when he's being insulted, the giant snarls menacingly, distracted enough by my words that he doesn't notice that in that moment, Thor nods to me and I release my barrier, just in time for Thor to swing his hammer down upon the giant's head.

"Careful," I admonish him. "Don't kill it. I want answers, first. I hadn't mentioned it before now because I didn't want to freak anyone out, but ever since I've arrived here, this guy and his friend have been lurking around my rooms. I want to know why."

"Damn it Angel," Thor swears, "you should have told me weeks ago! You could have been killed!"

"You said there were two?" Naslund asks. I'm grateful when the question distracts Thor from my stupidity. "Did the other escape?"

I gesture towards the shattered window. "He made an unfortunate exit, yes," I reply, as Naslund and Thor both move to the window to view the grounds below.

"I don't think you'll get your answers out of that one," Thor comments, turning back to the room. With one arm, he easily lifts the unconscious frost giant over his shoulder and turns to leave. "I shall bring this to Father's attention and see what we can learn from the creature."

Naslund turns to follow. "I shall have someone clean up the scene below, and also that window should probably be fixed fairly soon…" he turns back to face me at the door. "Are you all right, Lady Angelia? I would be very understandable if you want me to stay awhile."

Thankful as I am for the offer, I wave him off. "I should be fine, now. But Naslund?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you, for everything." I watch until he turns a corner on the spiralling staircase before I close the door and turn to face the room, alone again though certainly not relaxed. I busy myself with picking up shards of both the vase and the few pieces of window that ended up on the floor. Luckily, most of the pane flew outwards with the giant, so there was little cleanup involved. I resist the urge to look downward at the body laying far below in the yard. I don't want images of the giant to haunt me for the rest of my life. It's the first experience I've had with killing an enemy, and there's no great rush of adrenaline, no triumphant-victory feel. I wish it never happened.

I take the table leg I used as a bat and set it back under the end table. If I set it just right, it stays in place, though I make a note to tell Naslund I need some glue or something. I make a pile of the wooden splinters that used to be my bedroom door, and then I sink into the chair near the window, knowing that sleep won't come for the rest of the night.

.*

Thor is greatly surprised the next morning when I make my way out to the training field at the usual time. Getting up wasn't an issue this morning, seeing as how I have been up a few hours already, ever since the moment I awoke last night with the feeling of something deeply wrong.

"I didn't imagine that you'd be ready to resume training," Thor says, "after last night."

I lean far to the right, stretching out my muscles for the coming abuse. "It only makes me all the more ready," I reply, leaning the other way. "Had you not heard me, Thor, last night would have ended very differently. I need to be stronger, or the next attack could easily be the last." It hasn't escaped my thoughts that the giants' presence indicates someone's wish to have me out of the picture, and any Asgardian desperate enough to enlist the help of frost giants isn't going to stop just because the little human (or half-human, I guess) managed to kill one.

"Father won't let something like that happen again," Thor attests. "There are to be guards nearby to your rooms from sundown until the sun rises once more. And you should really thank Naslund, he is the one who heard your shouts. I was too focussed on the story I'd been telling to hear."

I make a mental note to profusely thank Naslund before I frown. "This is exactly why I didn't tell anyone to begin with," I grump. "I don't want to be watched like some prize that might get snatched away at any moment. I want to defend myself."

"Don't argue with Father at least until I've trained you further. You're no match for a frost giant as of yet. We will keep training, and when you are advanced enough, I will tell Father to call off the guards, if that is still your wish. We just want to keep you safe, Angel."

"Well then, no more going easy on me," I say, finding no room to argue with Thor's solution. "I want to learn all I can as quickly as possible." As if to underline my statement, I throw a punch, which Thor easily blocks.

"Well to start," Thor says amusement sparking in his voice. "You always want to be as unpredictable as possible. Like this-"

He mimics my move, only as I move to block it, he kicks out a foot at me. We are both surprised, I think, when I dance away from the blow.

"Maybe you're better suited for this than you think," he muses. I am flattered enough by his words that the next strike hits its mark, and even I can't help but laugh as I pick myself up off of the ground.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four

Several hours later, as I make my way down the stairs like I do every day, my mood isn't nearly as bright. I walk with purpose, my expression darkening when I can see the man behind the bars.

"Well," he says flippantly. "That's quite a different look from the one you gave me last night."

"What kind of game are you playing?" I ask, ignoring his comment.

His face glazes into an innocent look. "What do you mean, Angel?"

"The frost giants," I say, "why have they been lurking around my chambers?"

"You're asking the wrong person," he says, with a nonchalant shrug. "I cannot communicate with anyone other than you or the guards while I am locked up. How would I be able to control anything outside of these four walls?"

"You must know something," I say, refusing to back down. "Who is doing your dirty work, Loki?"

"If I told you, dear, I would have to kill you," he says, his demeanor changing instantly as he gives up the innocent ploy. "And that is the last thing I want to do to you."

I can feel myself warming to his words despite my inner sense of warning, and I fight back the feeling. Being biased right now could cost me my life in the future; last night proved that much. "If you don't tell me, it could kill me," I argue. "You better decide what is more important to you."

"I don't expect you to understand," he begins, his expression pleading with me to understand. I, however, do not fall for the puppy dog look.

"Then I don't expect you to speak to me ever again," I snap. "I could have been killed last night and you want me to _understand_? Understand what, that my life is nothing in comparison to the chance for vengeance against the throne? That's exactly how much I mean to you, isn't it?"

"Must you exaggerate so?" he asks, interrupting me. "They won't lay a finger on you. If the very look of a frost giant is enough to convince you that your life is in danger, then maybe you should stay away from me. Don't ever forget what I am." He sounds so bitter I feel my resolve melting instantly, despite my need for information. Damned hormones.

"One of them tried to crush me against a wall!" I exclaim. "And maybe no fingers touched me, but damn near all of the rest of him did!" I quickly fill him in on the incident, trusting that the information is safe with him. He looks up at that, some dark emotion clouding his features as I continue. "It doesn't matter what race a person is," I say, voice low, "if someone tries to kill me, I'm going after them. _What_ you are doesn't matter to me," I continue, placing a hand on the bars, "not when I know _who_ you are as well as I do."

"You wouldn't feel like that if you knew everything about me," he says, stepping back from the bars.

"I don't expect you to be perfect," I say softly. "No one is, including me."

I fumble with the keys, letting myself into the room quickly. Standing before him, nothing separating us, I find myself saying, "I killed a man last night – threw him right out a window. I'll be guilty of that my whole life, but that doesn't make me evil."

I step closer, encouraged when he doesn't maintain the distance between us. "No matter what you've done in the past, I only see the man standing here in the _now. _That's who I see, Loki, and the rest doesn't matter."

"You only say that because you didn't witness my past. Anyone else here, even Thor when he visits – I see their fear, their disgust, their disappointment. No one works like that – they will remember what I've done until I die." He reaches out, as if to touch me, as if to seek comfort but drops his hand before it makes contact.

"They'll learn to forgive," I say, putting my own hand on his lowered arm. "In time, people will forget. They just need to see the you that I see."

"Which is what?" He sneers at me, stepping back so my arm falls back to my own side. "I am not as good as you think me, Angel. If you remember, only a few moments ago I wouldn't tell you who else is involved."

I concede that point, but I'm not about to leave it at that. "There's more going on than I know," I state. "Heimdall told me war is looming over Asgard. I'm not saying you're responsible for it, only that you're in deep. I don't want to put you in danger, Loki, and I understand why you might not want to tell me what you know."

I step forward until once again we're toe to toe. Placing a hand on his face, I look up at him. "But can you please give me a hint?"

He places a hand over mine for a moment, as if savoring the feeling of human contact, and then lowers my hand from its place. "The enemy is closer than you want to know."

"How close are we talking?" I ask, shivering at his cryptic words. He simply gives me a look that I know means communication on this is now off-limits.

"Do you want to work on your magic today? After last night, I would understand if you want to take a break for a few days," he says, and though his face betrays no emotion, I am irritated by what I know lies behind his words.

"Stop coddling me," I say. "Thor, too, offered to forgo training today. I would think it obvious that I would want the opposite, that I would want to become stronger and more able to defend myself for the future."

"Then we will skip over a few things," he says after a moment. I don't miss the approval in his expression before he grows serious once more. "I hope you're ready for this."


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five

At the end of our eight hours, I go from one cell to another, making my way through the maze of corridors beneath the castle until I'm standing in front of a different cell containing my newfound friend of last night.

"You," the giant hisses, throwing a fist against the bars in front of my face. Trusting in the strength of the prison, I don't even flinch.

"And you," I reply coolly, "although now that you mention it, I don't even know your name. Why don't we get a little better acquainted, hm?"

"The only thing I wish to know of you is the strength of your neck in anticipation of the moment I will snap it," he growls.

I'd probably feel a lot more threatened if it wasn't for the fact that he's caged. Seeing as how he cannot snap anything in me at the moment I answer candidly, "Now, that is a good question. See, if I still thought I was fully human, I'd say you only needed one hand, tops. Being the monster you are, you probably know just how much force it takes to snap the neck of a god. With me, it would likely be somewhere between the two, though, honestly, I haven't ever tried."

"In all my years here," someone behind me – Naslund? – says, "which are a lot, let me tell you, never have I walked into a stranger conversation."

"We were just getting to know each other," I say innocently. "Now, giant, I've told you the only thing you wish to know; perhaps you might think to humour me and tell me what I want to know – who are you working for?"

My interrogation skills fall flat as the frost giant merely stares contemptuously. I'm embarrassed that Naslund witnessed such a failure of an attempt and so I allow him to take my arm and steer me back towards the stairs.

"'Tis best, Lady, that you leave such questioning to the professionals. Your inexperience is vastly hindering you in reaching the conclusions I myself have reached," Naslund says as we begin the ascent. "Loki has taken charge of the giants, I believe, and it is him who they look to as leader."

I shake my head, sure that my own theory makes more sense. "Loki cannot communicate with them from his cell," I say confidently. "Whether or not they once followed his orders, they're working for someone else now, possibly an interim leader of sorts, I believe."

Naslund gives me a strange look. "It is no coincidence that Loki was allowed out of his cell on the night of the attack," he says, speaking agonizingly slow, as if explaining the concept of division to a particularly slow child.

"That wasn't the first night I saw the giants in my rooms," I admit, "And so it couldn't have been Loki-"

"Dear child!" Naslund exclaims. I get the feeling he'd like to swear right about now, but like most gods, refrains from doing such a thing in front of women. "Why didn't you tell us?"

I shrug, "It was just so unreal," I find myself lying, "I didn't think anyone would believe me when I barely dared to believe my own eyes."

"Listen, Angelia," Naslund says, lowering his voice almost to the point of a whisper. "This information is classified. You cannot breathe a word of what I'm about to tell you, not even to Thor."

I nod in agreement, my interest piqued by his hushed, urgent tone. "I swear."

"We do indeed have evidence to suspect that someone within these golden walls is in cahoots with the enemy forces."

"Oh," I say, disappointed. I just told him as much ten minutes ago. "Do you know who?"

"We're close," Naslund says, excitement in his old eyes. "I am telling you this so that you are aware of what is going on around here. Please stay out of the way of our agents, Lady."

I open my mouth to argue that I may be of some use, with my abilities for sensing people, but Naslund interrupts, making it clear that the conversation is over.

"From now on, the All-father requests that you take dinner with your family every night, even those where they formally entertain in the great hall. You'd best hurry and change; your brothers all possess voracious appetites and 'tis best not to keep them waiting."

.*

Just as the night before, I don clean, plain clothes and make my way down to the smaller dining room, where the rest of the gang is already assembled; even Odin is seated at the head of the table already. I take my place, and instantly, servers bustle through the doors.

Apparently, no one else has noticed the empty seat across from me as they dig into their plates heartily. I clear my throat, and every eye in the room falls on me.

"I thought this was to be a family dinner," I say, levelling my gaze on the head of the family. "Or was yesterday simply an entertaining sort of show?"

"What are you talking ab-" Balder grouches, not happy to be distracted from his plate.

"Your brother," I interrupt, and the numbnuts looks to Thor. "Your _other_ brother."

"That was a test of sorts," Odin says, waving a hand as he explains. "To see if he could be trusted to have a little more freedom."

"A test he passed, I'd say." I meet Odin's one-eyed gaze squarely. "So shouldn't he have the right to join you every night?"

"I wanted that to be the case," Odin says, voice emotionless, "but he refused an invitation to join us tonight."

"Come on now," I say sardonically. "I can't imagine anyone would turn down a ticket out of that dank little cell for an hour or more. With your permission, _Father_, I would go convince him to come sit amongst the living."

"If you are so set on this," he says as he rises from his seat, "I will accompany you down and you may see for yourself that he isn't to be persuaded."

I wait until Odin has escorted me out into the hallway before I speak again. "You really aren't doing enough about this situation," I say, not caring if the odd passerby overhears me.

"I am doing all I can." His tone, cold and authorative, leaves no room for argument.

"You told me yourself, Odin, that unless every one of your children – which apparently includes those not actually related to you, like myself an Loki – are on our side if and when the realms are thrown into a war, we will lose." I look to him for confirmation. The way he sets his jaw settles it for me.

"We have to be a solid team when that day comes," I say. "We all have to pull together, and unless _everyone_ pulls together and contributes to the team, we're destined to lose – you've said so yourself. So unless everyone in that room accepts and learns to trust Loki again, we're done. We've lost before we've even begun the fight."

"I've tried to soften the others," Odin says bleakly. I am struck by the sadness emanating from him, and for the first time I realize he's already forgiven his adopted son and accepted him home.

I soften my tone, daring to loop my arm through his as we take to the stairs. "It'll take time," I say, "at this rate, it'll take more than we have. It's a risk, yes, I'll admit it, but unless they are thrown together for some time every day, they'll never get used to him being a part of the team."

We reach the bottom level and step onto level ground, continuing down the last stretch.

"What do you propose I do?" He asks, his expression hopeless. It's scary, seeing that the very king of the realm doesn't believe we can win.

"He can't be allowed to roam about unsupervised," I say reasonably, "but if you could allow me to escort him around the castle and yard within the eight hours I am to spend here, anyway, he'd be much more involved with the people."

"He'd have to be stripped of his powers during that time," Odin considers. "One week. If there is no change by then, we'll think of something else."

I'm guessing by the way he freezes that the king of the gods doesn't get many hugs. Maybe that first night when Naslund and I talked of daughters, he was on to something, because Odin regains composure and somewhat awkwardly pats my back.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six

When I pull away, I notice for the first time Loki standing at the gate watching the scene I am causing.

"What," he says mockingly, "you don't see enough of me as it is? Your gold-plated dinner is getting cold, Angel."

"Well then, you'd better agree to come up with me, or else I won't touch the food."

"What makes you think I care if you eat or not?" There's no emotional inflection in his eyes to make me doubt his words, but then, I didn't expect such an easy excuse to convince him.

"How about I cut you a deal," I say, switching tactics. "You agree to take dinner with the rest of us and I arrange for our eight hours together to be spent outside of this little hellhole of a cage."

"You might agree to such an idea," he says, his voice rising. "But your darling _king_ here wouldn't dream of it. I am a monster; I am never to be trusted!"

In reply, I slip my key into the lock. In anticipation of an attempt to flee, I guess, Odin steps back. I let the gate swing open, the odd choice of argument giving Loki pause. I ignore the king's presence and take Loki's much larger hand between my smaller ones and look up at him, surprise evident in his face that I would touch him in such a manner in front of the King.

"I trust you," I say. The words are quiet, but spoken with a conviction of stone.

Loki's gaze flickers to the king behind me and back again. He has a look o mischief in his green eyes and I don't have time to figure out what is about to happen until it does. "You shouldn't," he says, voice both rough and silky at once.

When he mouth swoops down to mine, I let out a startled little sound and freeze. He pulls back quickly and I blink, trying to clear my head. My knees feel like they're half-made of jello as I step back, creating a sort of pillow of space between us, though I'm still holding his hand.

"Food's better up there," I say, still trying to convince him. I give a little tug on his hand and am rewarded when he follows me through the gate. Odin turns to lead the way back to our supper, and I briefly catch his eye as he turns. I can only describe it as a somber, chastising look, though he doesn't say anything.

"Maybe so," he says, as we follow Odin back up the stairs, "but then, food isn't what I'm hungry for to begin with."

My ears are burning, I can feel it. He's spoken loud enough for Odin to hear, and I don't doubt for a moment that he would've said such a thing if the king wasn't just ahead of us to hear it. I don't reply verbally, but remove my hand from his as we reach the top of the stairs and turn out into the corridor.

In response, he simply brings said hand up to rest on my lower back, a move that draws attention from the passing staff. I do my best to ignore the contact, making my escape once we reach the dining room. As like last night, only Thor and the Queen – I refuse to acknowledge her as anything else – greet the prodigal son. For whatever reason, Loki makes a show of pulling out my chair and I don't miss the glances being shot around the table as I take my seat. The atmosphere in the room is so tense I almost can see it floating about in the air.

Oh boy, are they going to talk about this.

Dinner, though a little more to my tastes than last night, is indeed already cold. I think back to a recent lesson with Loki that had focussed on the elemental magics, mostly the main four. If I could summon the heat of fire for a few seconds, perhaps my food would be suitably warmed.

Ignoring the talk around me, I concentrate on the only fire spell I know, putting less energy into it in the hopes to not get any real flame.

"How lovely it is to have the whole family in one place," Frigga is saying, in the exact instant my plate goes up in flames, garnering the attention of the entire room.

I panic and let out a puff of air, as if to merely blow out a fire fifteen feet high and growing. Thinking quickly, I grasp in my mind the water equivalent of the spell and cast it, not caring how much I put into this spell, a torrential downpour extinguishing my plate and leaving me with a smoking, soupy dish.

Thankfully the rain only hit my plate and not my actual self, so I'm left only feeling stupid, and not looking it as well. The room is silent, likely in shock, for a full minute before I hastily try to remedy the situation. I give a clap of my hands, summoning a servant to the room.

"If I may have a drier entre," I say, mustering as much regality as possible in the situation.

At this, Thor bursts into laughter, his voice rumbling like thunder around the room. Within seconds, other voices begin to add to the din. Even Loki allows a smirk to cross his face, and I cover my face with my hands as I feel it reddening.

Vidar claps my back as he roars, his giant hand nearly knocking the wind out of me. When he moves to repeat the gesture, I cast a quick barrier around myself, and in his amusement, Vidar doesn't even realize his hand is stopped inches from my back.

"Now, daughter," Odin says, once the room has calmed down some. "Proper etiquette calls for refraining oneself from casting a full-force inferno during dinner. Gods tend to be more 'uptight,' as you say, about such things." A couple of the men snort at the king's humorous rebuke.

"Well, if the spell wasn't so touchy, there wouldn't be a problem," I say in my defense.

"That spell is about as simple as they get. You must have been trying to warm all of Asgard to put so much force into it." Loki leans back confidently as he speaks.

"I did not," I argue heatedly. "I only used a small force because I didn't want an actual fire."

"You may have discovered your first strength, then," Frigga muses.

"I likely just miscalculated it," I argue frostily as my new dish arrives.

"Perhaps not," Thor says. "Maybe you are coming into your powers." I give him a confused look, and he elaborates. "It is like how I am the god of Thunder; the title is merely a larger name for my strengths. As gods mature into their strengths, they make a connection with a certain title. Like someone with extraordinary water powers, the advanced ability to swim and possibly breathe underwater may someday become the god or goddess of the sea."

"So you're saying I may someday become the goddess of forest fires?" I say, somewhat sarcastically.

"It's not always so obvious," Thor says, oblivious to my tone. "Fire can refer to many things you wouldn't immediately think – like a _fiery_ temper."

"I'd cast my vote with that one," Loki pipes up. "All that red hair just gives it away."

I self-consciously run a hand through my hair. "It isn't red," I say in defense.

"you know," Thor says, not helping my case, "it _is_ sort of red when a room is well-lit."

"Careful," I say, picking up a fork, "you wouldn't want my _fiery temper_ being directed at you."

To my surprise, both brothers let out a laugh, and we all return to our dinner in a much brighter atmosphere.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**So this chapter is a little delayed and not one of my better ones. I had trouble writing this part, because it mostly takes place before things really start to happen, as a sort of connecting chapter before things really start to happen. Thank you as always for reading :)**

**Just a reminder to check out EnyaandEathenyl's work if you're looking for other Avenger/Loki-type reading materials.**

.*

After dinner, I leave Odin to bring Loki back, not really wanting to draw more attention to the show the king witnessed on the way to dinner. If I thought that alone would be enough to avoid a discussion about it, I find I am wrong as the sound of my door opening draws me away from the window and the world behind it.

I am ready to snap at the intruder about privacy rights, but I identify the man in time; in his own palace, I suppose, the king may go where he pleases.

"After tonight, I think you can imagine why I might be here," he says, settling onto a couch cushion across from the chair I occupy. He looks to me for affirmation.

I stare right back at him, unsure of what to say. I can't imagine that I'd be in _trouble_, I mean it's not like _I_ did anything wrong. And it's not like Odin ever really told me it was forbidden to think those things I'd caught myself thinking recently.

"I am tempted to remove you from your duties in regards to the trial and my decision," he says calmly.

"I have done nothing wrong!" I exclaim. "What have I done to be dishonoured?"

"It isn't a matter of what you've done wrong, Angelia," he says, trying to smooth my ruffled feathers. "I simply don't feel comfortable about putting you in danger like this."

"You put me into the situation in the first place with no problems," I say, not sure why I'm arguing against something I wished for so many weeks ago. Maybe what I want has changed so drastically I'd fight to stay where I am. "What is so different now that you'd give up on our only chance to win the war?"

"I think we can agree that the situation is changing," he starts, but I cut him off as if he isn't the king of the realm.

"For the better! Things are beginning to change," I say. "Can you afford to pull the plug on this in the event of a war? We must all be on the same side when that day comes, and you'd ruin the only chance at that because you aren't _comfortable_. Imagine how I feel – at least you're in your own realm dealing with the same things you've been aware of for hundreds of years. I have less than eighteen months total experience here, so don't tell _me_ about comfort."

Odin raises his voice, drowning out my rant. "Bottom line is, girl, that you are too trusting. That trick with the gate was foolish; what if he'd made an escape?"

"I am only as trusting as the person involved is trustworthy," I say, lowering my voice to a normal tone. "I have spent hours upon hours with him, Odin, and with all due respect, you haven't. I wouldn't have opened the gate had I thought there was even the slightest chance he'd run."

Odin opens his mouth as though to speak and then closes it, as though lost for words.

"Let's face it," I say, taking the opportunity to push on. "You don't really believe I'm growing too reckless. You are less worried about Loki escaping and more worried about me."

"He's not above using people." Odin doesn't deny what I suggest. "It's clear there's more than trust between you two, and I can only imagine he'll hurt you in the long run. If Thor were to take over at this point-"

"Any progress we've made will be for nothing," I finish, interrupting him again. "It will be like the past weeks haven't happened, Odin. I can feel the tension building in the air here, and it's thick enough to smother already. Can you guarantee that there's enough time left before our enemies attack to start all of this over?"

"What choice have I?" He stands in agitation.

"You could choose to trust me," I say quietly. "I think, after all I've been through in the time we've known each other, I deserve that much."

"Be careful," Odin finally says, on his way to the door. "Not everyone here is to be trusted."

Having heard the same from Loki, I am not surprised that the King has similar opinions. I wait for the click of the door before turning my gaze once more to the mountains on the horizon, the new windowpane all that separates me from the rest of the realm.

.*

I breeze through my training with Thor, escaping the minute I can to retreat to my rooms. With much arguing on my part, Thor agreed to elevate my level of training, and after the brutal morning session, I want nothing more than to soak for a good hour in the tub.

I settle for a scalding shower instead, not wanting to wait the full hour to see a certain someone, redressing quickly afterwards. Thankfully, it is much less painful to limp down the stairs than it was to crawl up them. I'm beginning to regret accepting the rooms at the top of the tower; my weakness for the view just may kill me yet.

"You can't keep your end of the agreement," Loki says, before I've even reached the gate.

I wait until I am sliding the key into its lock to answer. "And why can't I?"

"There is no way Father would allow it," he says, even as I let the gate swing open, his words punctuated by the sounds of metal on metal as the gate rebounds off of the far wall. "Especially after that performance last night."

"Come on," I say with a grin. "I for one would rather spend eight hours somewhere else."

"If you're thinking of the same somewhere as I, I don't know what you're waiting for." He could've meant anything, but the way he said it, I could feel the blood vessels in my cheeks dilate.

"Not only are we on different pages," I say drily, "we're in totally different books. Coincidentally, that _is_ where we're headed – I hope you like to read, because I've been itching for enough time to get into a book."

We're halfway up the stairs before he makes another comment. "For the record, it's not my first choice."

"Tell you what," I say, nearly tripping on a stair when I turn to look at him. "You do whatever I want for the day, and tomorrow you can pick the places." He raises a brow in question, and I answer swiftly and remorselessly with an elbow to his side. "_Not_ that."

.*

That is how, for the first time in my life, I assault a librarian.

In my defense, I had my reasons. And for future reference, don't ever try to deny me access to a library simply because I am accompanied by a notorious character.

Luckily, Naslund is the only one inside the library and is able to smooth things over with the rather angry librarian and I am saved from being put before the king by a complaint.

"There, now, Pruis," Naslund interjects, coming around from the other side of a bookshelf. "Has no one informed you of this young woman's inauguration? Or the fact that she is to escort this man freely throughout the castle?"

The man, Pruis, has enough sense to look chastised. "Has no one informed her that violence isn't the answer to every dispute?"

"I did try to explain," I butt in, but Naslund cuts me off.

"She's very legally an Asgardian Princess, sir, and I cannot stand by and let you mistreat a member of the royal family."

"Two members," I correct, narrowing my gaze on the ruffled librarian. "If it's all the same to you, I will pick a few books to take up to my rooms, so you are not made to suffer through our presence." I am impressed at the cold, regal tone I manage. Maybe I can pull off this Princess thing. "Good day, Naslund."

I don't wait for a reply, but sweep past the doorway and down a randomly chosen aisle. It is, much like the shelves where I found the prophesy on my last visit, filled with biographies, thick tomes labelled with simply a name or title. Loki slides one from its place, having followed me into the library.

"This name looks quite familiar," he says, setting the book in my hand as he casually moves further down the shelving.

_Masters of Midgard, the Bellefeuille family._ With a jolt, I recognize the name. Bellefeuille was mentioned in the prophesy of the trio. Even though Loki refuses to tell me anything outright, he's once again pointed out something that could very likely help in some way.

For whatever reason, I slide the book – luckily not as thick as the rest sitting on the shelf – into the hidden compartment on the inside of my jacket. I do it without thinking, and pause to wonder why I would feel the need to hide this one from anyone, let alone the few people inside the library.

I pick up a book at random and follow Loki through the dustier shelves. I notice a book as I pass, one that is clear of dust, unlike the books on either side of it. Without reading the title, I tuck it, too, into my jacket, on the opposite side to avoid looking conspicuous.

By the time we make our exit, I have nearly a dozen books to sign out, not including the two I smuggle out.

"I suppose it is my turn to choose the destination," he says casually, not mentioning anything to the librarian, or to Naslund who is still hanging around, likely to head off any more outbursts on my part.

"Not a chance," I say, not missing the tic of annoyance in his face. "I get the whole day today."

"So long as I am not subject to trivial, gossipy conversations with Sif or Mother."

"I am not one to chat with other women," I admit, tempted to make today an exception just to annoy Loki. "I grew up without a mother, and the age gap between myself and my sister was too large for us to really bond before she took off to study in the United States. Don't worry, I don't have many words for Sif, and even less for the Queen. Let's put these books away in my room, then I want some fresh air."


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight

We don't return to the castle until dinnertime, at which point we slip for the most part unnoticed into our dinner spots. Even Loki's presence for the third night in a row seems to be more easily accepted by the others than I would have guessed.

That realization warms my heart and lifts my mood throughout the meal, even though none of the other men address Loki directly. Loki himself, however, makes the odd contribution to the conversation, and no one disrespects his comments or outright ignores him.

After the meal, Odin expresses a wish to escort Loki from the meal, and I agree, seeing Odin's offer for what it is – not a sign of distrust, but an effort to rebuild a relationship with his son, to repair the smouldering bridge that burned the day Loki inadvertently discovered there was more to his story than he'd been told. The day that triggered the domino effect that witnessed Loki's fall into maddening heartbreak.

So I return to my rooms directly after the meal ends, making my escape before Thor can invite me to join his other brothers and friends in an evening of retelling the battles of old. A girl can only fake so much interest in beating things up.

Once I am sure that no one is going to barge into my rooms, I settle into the comfy chair by the window and pull out the hidden Bellefeuille book, and with a heightened pulse, I begin to read.

The book tells of a French family, who were involved in a dispute with the King several thousand years ago. Many people, and the Bellefeuilles themselves believed they were the rightful heirs to the throne, and had been ousted from their rightful glory a thousand years before that, by the current King's ancestors. The countryside was thrown into an uproar, and the King slaughtered those by the name of Bellefeuille mercilessly, resting his blade only when convinced every last one had been killed.

Just after midnight, I reach the last chapter, which speculates that one female Bellefeuille, a young woman at the time was smuggled out of the country by her family in order to preserve the rightful line for a time when her descendants could take their proper place on the throne. She quickly married one of the sailors on the boat and took his name to conceal her identity before settling in England.

Sources confirm that only a few generations lived on in Europe, before a young man by the name of Henri Langeis settled in the newfound lands that later became Canada.

I return the book to its hiding place, heart thundering in my chest. This information, the solid evidence that I am linked, coincidentally, to the family name mentioned in the prophesy of the trio, is enough to finally convince me that I am indeed the girl in the prophesy. The King can dress me in blues to solidify the telling, but there's no way he can fake my ancestors on the human side.

At the late hour, I almost don't want to take the other book from my jacket lining with my mind so clouded with information from the first, but my more paranoid side would rather read it tonight, or at least scan it for anything important, and take it back before someone notices it's missing.

So I settle back into the chair and study the book, its name unfamiliar, since I didn't bother to read the title this afternoon. Or last afternoon, if I consider how late it is. Entitled _Silver Goddess_, it doesn't take long to realize that this book is a fictitious tale of a goddess of silver, with no connection at all to the first book.

I scan through the pages anyways, flipping quickly from one to another, and am rewarded when one page a little over halfway through contains a fancy scrawl written between two lines of the story.

_Our time is nigh, I will be waiting at the appointed time in the appointed spot tomorrow_

Weird. I am about to flip the page when I am stopped by a possibility. What if the message was left there by someone in the morning, as a message to whoever it is who is disloyal to the king? I flip back and note the page, 104. Maybe it means something.

I stay up awhile longer, flipping through the rest of the book for more notes, but find nothing. I've just replaced the book in my jacket when a knock sounds at the door. I call out for the visitor to come in, a little surprised that someone who would knock on the door is visiting at the late hour.

"Princess," Naslund says with a little bow, stepping into the room. "I didn't expect to find you up at this hour. Have you seen anything out of the ordinary tonight?"

"It's been pretty quiet up here," I reply, shaking my head. "Is something wrong?"

"Your prisoner has escaped," Naslund says, enunciating carefully as though trying not to upset me. "The frost giant escaped his cell about an hour ago. I was sent to make sure he wasn't making another attempt on your life."

"Haven't seen him," I say. Although I would bet that whoever left the note in _Silver Goddess_ is behind the giant's escape.

"Well, just in case he makes an appearance, I will keep watch in the stairwell. Sleep well, Princess, you have nothing to fear!"

"You seem to be forgetting that I outsmarted two giants last time we tangled," I grouch, feathers ruffled by Naslund's chauvinistic vow to protect the 'defenseless' damsel. Nevertheless, I retire to my room once Naslund retreated to the stairwell, taking the jacket with me.

.*

I wake up as the sun rises, my morning routine as uneventful as the night before. I meet Naslund on the stairwell, and despite my bristles about being treated like a helpless female, I thank him for standing guard, as is polite.

"Have you heard," Thor says, when I meet up with him outside, "our prisoner escaped last night."

"Naslund told me," I reply, breaking out into my stretches as we talk. "He seemed to think I needed protecting against the big bad frost giant."

Thor makes a noise. "You could take him on again."

"That's my sentiment exactly. Now, I want to go over those moves we started on yesterday." I jog in the spot, eager to get going, to focus on the physical movements instead of the mental muddle piling up in my head.

"I can feel in the air," he says, mood suddenly sombre, "the wind hints of change. Something is coming, though I don't know what. There's been no escalation in the war threat, but I don't know what else I could be feeling. I am uneasy, Angel, and I don't think we have much time left to train. Today, we will go through as many advanced moves as we can, and tomorrow we will go through more, should tomorrow hold calm."

"Bring it," is all I say in response, not sure if my suspicions are grounded enough to share. So instead, I put all my effort into learning today, and hoping for another round tomorrow.

.*

It doesn't especially surprise me to find that Loki's cell is vastly over-guarded. Not only is there some suspicion in the castle that he's involved in this, like Naslund commented in the dungeons the other day, but his cell is mere feet from the Tesseract's pedestal, a prime target for enemy infiltrators.

As I do every day, I casually slip my key into the lock, and for my trouble I am pushed back by the closest guard.

"We have our orders, ma'am," he says, pocketing my key.

"Not ma'am," I say, annoyed enough to play the royalty card, "it's princess to you. Now, return my key before I get the King involved. I, too, have orders and you are standing in my way." I would've thought that news of my coronation would have already spread to the countryside, let alone to the staff, as it apparently hasn't.

"Only those identified by their colours are recognized by the guards today."

"Don't make me put those on," I say, dropping my shoulders. "I will be seriously pissed if I have to climb all those stairs again for that stupid cape."

"I'm sorry, ma'am, just following protocol."

I shoot Loki a glare on my way past him. Judging by the look on his face, he is way too amused by all of this.


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Thank you to those who've reviewed, favourited, followed, and read since the last update. It's taken awhile, I know; I got lost in the story, but I think I've found my way back out and figured out what I needed to, so hopefully I'll update a little more frequently from now on. It helps not to have any more night shifts in the next while, too, I think.**

**I know at least one person has aready noticed that I've changed my pen name, and I feel like I should explain why, don't feel obligated to read if you don't care. When I started this account, I did so with the sole purpose of uploading Angelia's story, and instead of thinking up a real pen name, I just named myself after her. But now that I've decided that once I finish telling Angelia's story, I might want to write another one about whatever, Thor or Tom Hiddleston, since Loki's made me love him so much, or maybe ****_maybe_**** Captain America (that movie makes me feel), I thought my name should focus less on this story. And honestly, squirrels are my life.**

**Well. I think that's about all my rambles for the moment. Now for our feature presentation...**

**.***

My shoulders are weighted with heavy blue cloth when I return to the underground rooms. I resist the urge to pant like a dog after traversing all those stairs in royal garbs. At least I was going down the stairs and not attempting to climb them.

I shoot a nasty look at the guard who took my key, and though he doesn't look as remorseful as I feel he should, he does return my key. I keep staring, key in my hand, until the guard reluctantly moves to the side, granting me access to the gate.

"You look to your charge, and I'll look to mine," I snarl, when the guard attempts to prevent the gate from swinging open. No one in the room moves to stop us as we head for the stairs, but I see in their eyes it is an urge they've resisted. I see flickering fear in more than a few. I hope in my heart that Loki doesn't see that basic emotion, not now when he is slowly settling back among the people.

I follow him up the stairs and through the castle, out into the bright noon sun. He doesn't speak as we wind our way through the golden city, and I find myself reluctant to break the easy silence, even if I'm itching to know where we're going. We move erratically through the city, turning every couple of blocks, zig-zagging towards the city's forested edge. It doesn't take long for the streets to become unfamiliar to me; though I spent many days outside the city, deep in the forest, it has been a long time since those days, and Loki chooses a much different route than I would.

We end up not near the middle of the treeline as I am used to but much closer to the western edge of the forest, the side that backs up along the water. From here, I can see the narrow strip of sand along the shore, only a few feet sporting coarse strands of wild grass. I don't object when he turns in that direction; the water here on Asgard fascinates my mind.

It's hard to explain, but the water feels more _alive_ here. The gentle rocking of the waves breathes life into the choppy water.

"For all you know," he says, coming to a stop on the edge of the sand, "I have led you out here to kill you and make my escape, yet you followed, all this way, without questioning. Not any other soul in all of Asgard, and your realm, too, would have done what you just did."

"Well," I say, trying to ignore the unsettling undercurrent to his tone, "I did promise yesterday that we would do whatever you wanted, and I've never turned down a day at the beach."

"I'm serious," he says, turning to face me. As he steps closer I can't help but step back, disconcerted by the burning spark in his eyes, a tiny golden flame surrounded in magnificent emerald colour. "No one else would have made it so far, not even-" his faces clouds over as he breaks off, and I wonder if he was about to mention Thor. No one else means more to Loki, I know, and things haven't exactly been copacetic between the two in recent times.

"Maybe you haven't let anyone else see what I've seen in you," I say softly, and almost without my mind's command, my feet bring me closer to him again, the troubled expression he wears is something I find I can't defend against.

"Maybe you're the only one who can see me clearly," he replies, holding his ground. He holds himself stiffly, and it seems every muscle in his body is tense, and I'm itching to comfort, to soothe the ghost of a little boy I see now in his eyes.

"Give them time," I say, resting a hand on his cheek. "Eventually they will see you as I do."

It's as though my words have brought back the fire to his eyes, though now it sparks dangerously. He grasps my hand with his and pulls it down, though he doesn't let go. "You would try to tell me that you see me only in the simple way anyone else could? Look at me, look right at me, all of me, and tell me you don't feel the fire as I do."

"I–" I begin, but I fall quiet as I meet his gaze. It's a loaded question, and I know that no matter how I answer it – truthfully or otherwise, nothing will be as it was when we left the castle just this morning.

He doesn't wait for an answer and crushes his mouth to mine, tangling a hand up into my hair, loose and tossing in the wind by the sea.

I have no words, no words to answer him, no words to explain how I feel or even to think about what it might mean in the face of a war for me to become too involved. In a way, I know it's pointless to try sort out how I feel, because no matter how I might puzzle it out, no mind is ever a match for a heart.

So instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him closer, losing myself a little further in the leather scent of his clothes, in the underlying spice I cannot name that lingers on his skin. The scents I've come to associate with the man are mixed with the heavy scent of his deeds, in the musty tones reminiscent of a prison he was driven to.

He breaks contact just long enough for some form of sanity to return to the mush that is my brain, and I pull away, flopping down into the sand, partly because I want to, partly because my legs are mushier than my brain, if that's even possible.

He looks down at me, sprawled in the sand at his feet with an expression akin to perplexity.

"You can't go to the beach and not enjoy the feel of it," I say by way of explanation. I pat the spot right next to me in invitation.

"Is the feel of a beach really the irritating grating of sand inside of your clothes?" he asks. Nevertheless, he settles onto the sand much more gracefully than I did and props himself up on his elbows, not entirely flat on his back.

"It's partly that, yes," I reply, looking out at the water. "It's also the crashing of waves upon the shore, the salty taste left on the wind, the burn of the sun upon skin. Back home, it's also the cries of seagulls, the shadows cast by their wings as they fly against the sun, the only moments a seagull is viewed as something beautiful." I close my eyes, content in the moment to feel the sun on my face, regardless of the tangled, sandy mess my hair will be tonight.

In that moment, I realize something, something monumental. In the here and now, I want to enjoy the things I like, treasure the present moments before they're gone with the setting of the sun, the click of a lock on a cell, regardless of the consequences.

So I say it, loud enough for him to hear it, but quiet enough to hold the solemn conviction I want to carry. I don't, however, have the courage to face him, choosing instead to thrive in the moment, eyes stil closed, sun still warm and free upon my skin.

"I love you," I say, "I love you."


	31. Chapter Thirty

The silence that follows my words seems to sit in my stomach, like a stone that grows with every passing second. Finally, I have to open my eyes, have to face the consequences of what I've revealed. I half expect Loki to be gone from his place in the sand, putting distance between us in every way possible, but against all odds, he's still there.

He's sitting up now, twisted to face me. For one horrible moment, the sun is unbearably bright, too warm when my heart is growing cold with dread. He has such a funny look on his face.

"Then you are far more stupid than I thought," he finally says, and though it isn't what I wanted to hear, the anguish in his tone gives me a strange hope as he continues. "If anyone back there found that out, do you think, even though things have begun to change, that they'd allow this, whatever _this_ truly is, to continue?"

"And who would tell them?" I rise into a sitting position, ignoring the sensation of sand running off of my back. "Are you threatening me? Would it not be easier to simply tell me you don't feel the same than to involve everyone else?"

"Humans," he surprises me by saying, "always jumping to the most illogical conclusions. Thor may be keeping quiet for now, but if he feels in any way that the stakes are too high, don't doubt he won't remove you far from the situation, my darling, and I can almost guarantee that never would we see each other again if that is to be the case."

"Thor doesn't know," I say. "No one does, though Odin would have to be dumber than an ox to not suspect it, after the way you behaved the other night."

"You don't discuss us with him?" He asks one question, and means by it an entirely different query.

"Of course not," I answer, my words hardly more than a breath. It's as if the simple phrase has erased every shadow from his face, and suddenly he flops down in the sand, as I had done moments ago.

"I promise you," he utters, "that when I am free and the war is over, we will be together. No obstacle will stand in my way to you, dear, I swear it."

His tone is lighter, far more free than I've ever heard it, and weak as it may be, I feel my throat tightening, eyes prickling with moisture. I swallow, hard, dispelling the choked feeling and take a deep breath to calm a bit. "I don't see how anything else could become an obstacle," I assure him, taking the liberty of resting my head upon his shoulder. I am gratified when he arm curls around to hold me there, close.

"There's more going on than you know," he says in response, a little of the weight back in his voice. "I made some questionable choices before you, but when this is over, I'll fix it, I swear, if you'll just stay."

"I couldn't leave if I wanted to," I reply, unconcerned about the past when the present is so perfect. "And believe you me, I don't."

.*

We talk about a hundred different things through the afternoon, leaving the sand to visit with the waves off and on as the sun begins its lazy descent towards the horizon. The moments before sunset find us sitting together in the shade of an ancient tree, its trunk so thick we can sit side by side against it.

"What is it?" he asks, noting too easily the wistful look I am sure I find on my face.

I'd been thinking about how different the sun sets against a backdrop of mountains, compared to the open fall in the clear sky. Both are beautiful, very much so, but my heart twists a little remembering countless mountain sunsets back home.

So I tell him, slanting my face away to give myself time to erase the look from my face, a look out of place on such a happy day. "The sea just reminds me of the mountains a little," I explain, trying to make light of the situation.

His hand finds mine in the shade of the tree. "Have you ever been to the mountains here in Asgard?"

I shake my head no. I'd been through the forest many times, but on foot for a human, the mountains were always out of reach back then. And this time around, even with the means to travel much more quickly out that way, thanks to many lessons with both Loki and Thor, I haven't had the time, what with the circumstances of my situation here.

"I could show you, for a moment, if that would please you."

"Loki," I say, my tone chastising. "We haven't got the time to go that far before we have to go back to the palace. Breaking the rules might mean we won't be allowed to do this sort of thing any more."

"I don't mean to literally go there," he asserts. "I merely wanted to show you, to cast a memory onto our surroundings for a moment." At my questioning glance, he nods out towards the sea, meaning for me to follow his gaze. "Watch."

One moment all I see is the blue-green waves, awash in sunset oranges and purples, and then I blink, and I am no longer on the beach. Ahead of us, where he told me to look, I can see the tall peaks of the mountains, no trees obstructing my view. A ways away, settled against the mountains, a castle like none I've ever seen before sets the fairy-tale tone. Gray an formidable, this castle is everything the king's is not – where the royal palace is lavish and elegant, this one stands tall, made of stone like the mountains beside it, and this one speaks of strength with its thick walls and resilient architecture.

As I study it, I realize suddenly what it is; not really a castle at all, but a mountain carved to resemble a castle, hollowed out to serve as one. Nothing man-made could ever suit the land so well as this mountain castle, and I am so enthralled with studying its details that I almost miss the sunset. Slowly, back behind the castle, the sun begins its descent, and though it lacks the beauty of the colours that are reflected off of the sea, the snow caps high on the mountains take on some of the glow, a quieter beauty than the ocean version.

It doesn't take long for the sun to disappear, as it quickly falls behind the mountains. As it slips out of sight, the sea is once again in front of us, returning as suddenly as it left. Some time has passed, that is evident in the position of the sun, as it prepares to sink into the sea, its dying light glows blindingly at eye-level.

"That wasn't a memory," I realize, noting that if not for the mountains, that sun would be seen at the same level as this one against the waters. "We were looking at this sunset from a different point of view."

"We should head back now," he replies. He doesn't confirm what I've said, but the truth is plain in his eyes in the dying light. For a moment, at least, I was in the mountains.

He stands, then helps me to my feet, and I find it is different, less demeaning than when the guards would do the same back when I leaned against the Tesseract's pedestal until my eight hours were up. Looking back at all the days I wasted, days that could have brought this peace in my heart to me much sooner, I wish I'd unlocked the gate that first day. I shake my head, dislodging the thought.

There's no use in spending today regretting the one before it, I know, and so I take Loki's hand and turn back towards the golden, glowing city, just as live in the dark as it was when the sun shone down on it.

"That castle," I say, something suddenly clicking as we walk, "the one made out of a mountain – that's yours, isn't it?"

"I wouldn't say just mine," he remarks, and even in the dark, his eyes burn bright.


	32. Chapter Thirty-One

We've missed dinner by the time we return, and the castle is almost deserted. Only the odd servant bustles past on their way do whatever errand they've been sent on so late.

I make a last minute decision when Loki turns to take the staircase down to his cell. "No," I say, pulling back towards the rest of the castle, "I think we shall take a different route."

"There is only one," he says, as though to correct me in my confusion. But I am not confused, and when we reach the second staircase, he hesitates.

"I'm sure," I say, before he can ask. He follows me quietly up the steps, very aware of a certain someone having rooms within this tower. We are one floor from the top when I begin to feel instinctually that something is wrong. I stop in my tracks and listen, and it almost sounds as if someone is shouting in my rooms.

I exchange a glance with Loki and we creep quietly up the last few steps, pausing just outside the door. I can sense who it is behind the thick door, but what I'm getting doesn't make any sense.

Suddenly the yelling starts again. "I'm telling you, someone intercepted your note!" The voice is chillingly familiar and lines up with what I've already sensed – the frost giant has returned to my rooms. I still don't understand why the other person is in my rooms with the frost giant, until I hear him respond, and chills run up and down my back as I identify the second speaker.

"You have failed me at every turn," Naslund says, voice muffled but unmistakeable from inside the room. "You failed to kill the girl that first night, and I am forced to spring you from the dungeons. Then, you are charged with two simple tasks; keep an eye on the girl and meet me at the appointed place, at the appointed time, and look where we are! You missed the meeting, and the girl is unaccounted for!"

"Listen to me," Loki hisses, taking me by the shoulders. "I will hold them here as long as I can; you are to go straight to the King and bring him here, understand? Run!"

"But you-"

"Will be fine, if you hurry, go!"

I take a step down but stop myself, reaching upwards instead for a quick kiss. Pulling away, I can only hope my eyes tell him all I want to say, because I don't have time to say it all, and slip off my shoes and run, my bare feet making less noise and better time.

I can only hope it is enough.

As I run, my mind flashes with information, wound up at what I've just overheard. Naslund, the man I've trust above all others, besides Thor and now Loki, is the man behind the enemy infiltration. There's never been a single sign, and I am wholly unprepared for the ripping sense of loss and betrayal that follows such an event.

Yet the more I think about it, the more I remember little things that may have indeed been hints at his darker nature. Flashes of memories zip by in my mind as I run, levelling off at the bottom of the stairs. I hurtle down the hall as images race around my mind. Naslund in the library when the librarian tried to stop us from entering – now I wonder if the librarian was covering for Naslund as he left a message in _Silver Goddess_, and if so, is he also a traitor, or simply intimidated by the king's advisor into following orders?

I think of how Naslund heard my calls, yet Thor, apparently standing right beside him, did not. From what I heard on the other side of my door moments ago, the giants were to kill me that night. Did Naslund step in only once I'd defeated them, to make it _look_ like he was my defender, all the while praying for my death?

It crosses my mind that he was worried I would figure it out long before this, when he told me in the dungeons to stay out of the frost giant's interrogation. He had also tried to point the blame at Loki that day, though I didn't believe it.

I don't want to believe _any _of it. At seventeen, before I had befriended Thor, I began to trust Naslund, the man who watched over me in this strange land. It is an unimaginable sorrow to find you cannot trust one of your closest confidantes.

I reach the large golden door to the King's chambers and pound on the solid frame. "Odin! There's trouble in the tower!"

At once, the door swings open and in my fervour I almost fall into the room as the king appears in the opening. "What is it, child?"

Even though he uses that word, I see the concern in his face and I know that he will take my word as more than a child's, and that knowledge grants me breath to reply.

"In my rooms," I gasp, having ran full-speed all the way here. "The first giant – Naslund, too – and _Loki –" _I am not even coherent as I try to explain, but Odin understands enough to know there's a problem in the tower.

He doesn't wait for me to find the right words, choosing instead to act as soon as possible and so he takes me hand and we run back the way I came. I already feel better, just knowing that Loki won't have to hold Naslund and the giant much longer, not with the king on the way.

.*

Moments later we are standing in my room, the silence echoing around us deafening, more so than my frantic mind, trying to think of all the scenarios as to what has happened.

"What is the meaning of this?" Odin turns to me, his gaze stony and questioning.

"I swear they were here," I say, glancing between him and Thor, who joined us on the returning climb. "I could sense them, the way you taught me to, and we heard them. Something terrible must have happened," I say, my tone taking on an edge as I fight panic. Loki is gone, vanished as inexplicably as the giant and Naslund.

"Do you not think it at all possible that Loki has run off with the giant, and Naslund is being held captive?" Odin's tone is heavy, as though all the hope he'd had for his son has been dashed with the recent events.

"No," I say, "I am sure of what I heard. Naslund is the double agent you've been looking for, and Loki was to detain them long enough to bring you here. He could be in very real danger!" There is a pause in the room after my outburst, and my agitation only grows as Odin studies both the room and me.

"I don't think we have the whole story," Odin says, finally breaking the silence. "We will send out a search party, but until we know more, I don't believe any of them will be found. As for where Loki stands in all of this…well, for now I choose to put weight on your opinion, daughter, until such time as evidence suggests otherwise."

Thor opens his mouth to give his input, but falls silent as we detect the sound of running footsteps on the stairs.

"My King," a soldier says, bowing as he pants. "There's been an incident in the lower levels. The Tesseract is gone."


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two

**Whoa! It's been so long, have you grown taller?**

**Please don't be mad at me for staying away so long, it's just that time of year where I cannot write due to all the bright lights and beautiful Christmas trees and carols and oh, goodness, the wafting scent of turkey dinners...**

**So I've been thinking a lot about where this story is going to end up, and within a few chapters I do believe I'll reach a place where it would fittingly break off into a second part. So basically, if any of you have an opinion on sequel stories and whether or not they should stay under the same title or be considered a wholly new story, I would appreciate feedback. I've seen quite a few stories that are sequels to other works, just wondering how the people who read my story feel about such things.**

**Anyways, thanks for being patient with this, and I hope this piece makes it up to all of you!**

The chamber is eerily empty, despite the swarm of guards and royals, because one such royal has been missing for almost an hour. Despite all the lights that are up to aid in the ongoing investigation, without the usual blue glow, the stone walls seem somehow more dark and sinister.

The investigators all crowd around the pedestal, irritation quickly spreading amongst them as Thor and his brothers jostle them in an attempt to see for themselves. It's not surprising that Odin intercedes after only a few moments in the room.

"If all those who aren't part of the investigation would join me in the War room, we shall deduce a plan of action there," he announces, holding out an arm as though to ensure I don't try to stay with the investigators.

I take his arm without making a fuss; without Loki, this part of the castle really holds no allure. I know Thor follows quickly behind, urging his brothers to leave the investigators to their work. Frigga is already waiting in the war room, the tears glistening in her eyes making me uncomfortable, and I purposely take a seat on the opposite end of the table, as far from her as I can get.

"Now, the first order of business," Odin begins, as the last of the men take their seats, "is to locate the Tesseract's current location, and if it is still moving, to predict the projected destination."

"The first order of business is to track down that eternal traitor and-"

I stand abruptly, interjecting myself into the conversation before Thor can open his mouth. I glare at the speaker, Tyr, as I interrupt coldly, "you have no proof of what you imply, and you're letting the simple thought of a fight set your blood on fire and render your brain useless. Would you rather we spend our efforts on hunting down a man who, possibly, is as innocent as any in this room, when the enemy steals away with one of our most powerful weapons? For being the god of war, you sure are letting family issues cloud your judgment."

"We?" Balder asks, standing to face me. "_We_ spend _our_ efforts? What do you have to do with any of this? Have I not told you before that it is best you stayed out of the affairs of the gods? I don't see how you getting in the way will benefit us, either, so to speak."

"She is our _sister_!" Thor's thundering voice is the only recognizable sound in the sudden din of the room, as everyone defends their side; a couple of the men clearly side with Tyr and Balder, but others like Thor and, from his expression, possibly Vidar, are as outraged as I.

I don't even bother trying to speak above the livid gods, seeing how obvious it is that even now, not all of them accept _me_, let alone Loki. What started as a civil tactics conversation has dissolved into a room full of testosterone, triggered by the threat of a _female_ invading their precious brotherhood. It doesn't take long for my patience to wear thin, and I feel myself snap.

"That's about enough!" I shout, releasing a burst of magic that sends my chair flying against the wall, with enough force to snap one of the golden legs. Silence. All of them stop whatever they're doing and look at me as if I've grown an extra head.

"I can see that no matter how noble your attempt to bring us together, Odin, I am not now and may never be considered a part of the team. Considering that said team can't even put aside such differences to recover the Tesseract, I'm not sure I want to be a part of such a useless venture. So I'll leave you to it, guys. And while you're sitting here asserting your testosterone-triggered aggression, I will be doing something actually useful. So thanks for this; at least now I know where I stand with the lot of you."

I turn to stalk out of the room, stopping in my tracks when Tyr's voice rings out. "What makes you think that someone like you could retrieve the Tesseract single-handedly, little girl?"

"You forget that I possibly know Loki better than anyone here, and while I couldn't tell you whether or not he's helping us or them, I think I know where to find him."

Thor crosses the room to stand at my side. "Who said she would be going single-handed, brother?"

And before anyone else can say anything, Thor takes my arm and sweeps me from the room.

.*

Before we leave, I head up to my rooms and change into the battle-themed outfit hanging in my closet, swapping out only the heavy leather boots for my own lighter pair. I feel around under the bottom of the nightstand until I find what I'm looking for; a little lip concealed near the back. I slip the ring on my hand as I turn to face Thor.

"You don't have to come with me," I say, though I am secretly relieved not to be going alone. "It's not exactly going to earn you any brownie points with your brothers."

"Letting the Tesseract slip from our lands would not benefit us, either," he says almost sagely, moving for the door. His back to me, I almost don't catch the next words, spoken so quietly I can't be sure I was meant to hear them at all. "Especially not _him_."

"Well, if you're sure about this," I say, falling into step behind him. "I know exactly where to find the Tesseract." Thor turns back with a questioning gaze, and I hold up my right hand, purposely moving the ring into the shadows, a technique best for revealing the eerie blue glow. "Odin must have realized the value in making sure the Tesseract can be located at all times. And the Tesseract can always find itself."

"Incredible," he breathes, holding my hand up to the light. Out in the sun, it looks similar to any lightly blue-coloured gem. "I knew not that this ring existed."

"That's because until now, Odin and I were the only ones who knew. It's not exactly common knowledge."

"May I hold it?" Thor asks, moving my hand back into the shadows so recreate the glowing effect.

"You've never allowed me to wield Mjolnir," I retort, retracting my hand.

"Have you not asked?" he questions, words punctuated with a pointed look.

Silently, I had him the ring, not surprised when he can't get the small silver band over his large fingers. Instead, I pick the ring off of the tip of his pinky and place the band in the palm of his hand, using my own to curl his fingers over it.

He closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them, I know it has worked and he, too, knows the current location of the Tesseract. The pained look on his face tells me so, better than any verbal affirmation could.

"It could mean anything," I say with a quiet sort of stubbornness.

"It likely means that even now, he is not to be trusted, Angel," he says just as quietly, laying a hand on my shoulder , pulling me closer as he hands back the ring. "We shall tell Father where to find the Tesseract and leave it to him to decide Loki's fate."

"But maybe," I reply, slipping the ring back onto my finger, "Naslund was looking for somewhere remote to open a port, and Loki, pretending to side with him, suggested somewhere familiar, hoping we would think to look there before they manage to open a port and escape. At this point, Odin won't consider that possibility; it would spell Loki's death to send the King."

Thor looks at me with a strange sort of pity. "Reality leaves little room for that theory, dearest. Even if it were so, I know not where to find the castle. Unless we notify Odin, it will be up to us to search the entire mountain range for one location, and assuming Naslund hasn't already opened a portal and escaped, it would fall to us to take Naslund down, not to mention Loki, if he is working with Naslund on this. Do you really think you could kill him if it fell to you to do so?"

Eyes afire, I reply, "if it comes down to it, do you not think I would defend humanity's well-being over a double-crosser?" I step past Thor and sweep down the remaining stairs. "You tell Odin, and he'll bring an army noticeable for miles; numbers don't matter if you can't get close enough to land a hit."

He watches me as we walk for a long moment, neither agreeing or disagreeing. "You better hope you're right," he says, and as we step out into the light of the two moons, he sweeps me up into a gruff hug, a touching show of solidarity.

It isn't until he leans in and presses his lips to mine that I catch a glimpse of Sif standing nearby with another goddess. Surprised, I don't know how to even begin to respond, and Thor releases me before I can decide. I look around, avoiding his gaze, and can't help but notice Sif is gone. When I finally look up, Thor has looked away, avoiding my gaze as we separately study the treeline beyond the city.

"Lucky for you," I manage, pretending as though he didn't just do what he did, "I think I can find my way there."


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three

**Hello everybody! Just a heads up, I only have one or two or three-ish more chapters (!) before I will be moving on to the second part, which I've decided is going to be posted under a new title, since no one has said I should do otherwise. **

**Also, sorry for the long wait between posts; I've recently discovered Tumblr and I'm not sure I've seen daylight since :P Thank you all for reading!**

We walk quickly through the city in silence, reaching the city's edge inside of an hour. Pausing in the same spot where I'd stood with Loki an eon ago, I scan the treeline, feeling the pull of the Tesseract fragment and trying to choose a promising route through the thick brush.

"Maybe I should lead," Thor suggests as he pulls up beside me. "I've seen images of the place, a long time ago."

"I saw it less than a day ago," I say, looking over to see Thor's astonished expression. "A vision of it, anyway. The ring is pulling _that_ way-" I point into the forest, away from the beach along the waters where I first saw our present destination.

"Still, if anything were to attack in the woods, would it not be advantageous to place me ahead?"

I grin and reach up to pat Thor's cheek. "Maybe it is time to put all that training to the test," I say, turning form him to the dark forest. "Besides, it'd do you well to obey an order or two, rather than constantly giving them."

He utters a protest, but I, having delved into the forest a ways ahead of him, can't make out the exact words. Still, I can't help but grin as he quiets, following behind on the narrow trail as instructed.

We make our way through the moonlit forest, stopping occasionally to gauge if the trail we follow has curved away from the direction towards which the ring pulls. More than once, I step off the path and into the thicket, pushing my way through the brambles and thorns until we emerge on another path. After crossing several paths, cut and grazed, I find a wider one that winds up through the trees to a spot where the land begins to swell. We've reached the foothills.

.*

"She's in love with you, you know," I say, breaking the silence some time later. "Sif, I mean."

I can feel Thor's eyes on me, even as I set mine on the path ahead of us. He's silent for so long I wonder if he plans to ignore me, but then, "Sif is a treasured friend. It would be wrong to do anything that could alter that."

I shiver a little, the cold country air something I hadn't anticipated in my rush to set off into the woods. "Am I not a treasured friend, as well?"

"Of co-" he begins, quick to protest.

"Then tell me, Thor, what is the difference? What sets me apart from Sif in your mind that allows you to do what you did back there, if we are both only friends? It's because of Jane, isn't it?"

"Do not bring that up-" he levels, voice biting into the crisp air.

"Maybe it's time it was brought up, Thor," I say, no more gentle with the subject than he had been that night out on the old bridge. "You are a very dear friend to me, and I won't lose that simply because I remind you of the dead. Look at me, Thor, really look at me. Do you really see Jane? Can't you see me as simply as you did the first time we met, before you knew me to be her sister?"

"This is preposterous!" The boom of his voice rustles a nocturnal bird from its perch in the trees above. "You do not understand my feelings if you think such things of me."

I watch him for a moment, reflecting upon how much he has changed since that first year. Back then, he was rash and proud, overbearing and high-strung. Though he obviously remained temperamental, his time on Earth with Jane altered his character. Thinking to reason with him from this angle, I touch his arm, meaning to tone down the conversation to better make my point.

"And you do not understand my feelings if you don't see how these past weeks have changed everything, Thor." I withdraw my hand as he takes in my words.

"Would that it were different," he finally says, almost a mile further down the road. "You deserve nothing less than perfection, and he isn't even close. He is my brother, but you are as a sister to me, and I cannot approve of any relationship you may pursue with someone who holds such great potential to hurt you."

I feel my temper fire up in Loki's defense, but good old common sense has me struggling to see reason. The words aren't spoken out of judgment but with the concern of a brother. "Everyone has great potential to hurt another," I say instead of lashing out. "Anyone you love can break your heart; anyone you trust can betray you. If you never risk such pain, how will you ever find a soul mate?"

"Some people are less of a risk than others," he says, giving serious thought to my words.

"Some people are more of a reward," I return, flinching as another bird takes off from a branch just above my head. "Whether you're ready to move on, Sif is one of those rare gems, and she already loves you. I think maybe she's loved you since the beginning. I'm not claiming to have known Jane better than anyone, but I know she'd want you to be happy. Just something to keep in mind."

Thor sets an arm across my shoulders in a sort of semi-hug. "'Tis a pity you're too young to be a sage," he says gruffly. I take that as a compliment and respond by swinging an arm up to clasp his shoulder, just as a large, crazed antlered-creature charges through the underbrush to appear just ahead of us on the path.

I can`t help but freeze for a moment, for although the creature resembles an oversized moose – long, strong legs, hooved feet, and a long face in addition to the large antler rack – its body is covered not in long, shaggy fur but sharp scales that shine in the moonlight. I glance at Thor, who has his eyes trained on the beast.

"Bilgesnipe," he utters, naming the creature. It's at that moment exactly that the Bilgesnipe makes his move, charging towards us without warning on the darkened path.

.*

Thor raises his hammer at the same moment that I quickly reach down for the small blade hidden in my boot. The beast is unnervingly close when Thor swings Mjolnir in a wide arc, timed to deal a powerful blow to the Bilgesnipe's lowered head, but at the last moment, the beast stops short, rising up on two feet into a rear, and Thor's swing sends the hammer swinging off into the trees as it misses its target.

Thor raises his arm to summon the weapon back, but the creature has already dropped back onto its feet and lunges forward swinging its head in an attempt to gut Thor with its massive antlers. Having failed to dig the blade out of my boot, I jump forward and instead attach myself to the beast's antler, gripping the bone as I leave the ground, trying to off-balance its head and divert the attack from Thor while he's hammerless.

Unfortunately, I don't weigh enough to really affect the giant creature and it continues on its course, almost unhindered. Desperately, I swing my leg up, just barely hooking it over the beast's back and scramble up into a mounted position, instantly reaching for the other antler.

With all my strength, I reef on the antlers, jerking its head to the side effectively. The creature loses its balance and stumbles to the side, just barely missing Thor.

"Angelia!"

I can hear him shouting, but as the Bilgesnipe regains its composure, I have to reign in all my concentration to keep my seat and can't reply. With one hand, I grasp the antler near its root and make another play for the dagger, giving up on the search as the beast tosses his head and jumps sideways, pinning my leg between its flank and a sizeable tree. Before I can even cry out, the animal takes off into the brush. I can hear Thor calling out somewhere behind me, back on the trail, but I don't reply, for fear of taking a mouthful of the pokey leaves growing off of these trees.

I flatten myself against the beast's back as it darts beneath a series of low-lying branches. We've come to a place where the trees on either side are too thick to dart between, forcing the beast to keep a straight course, and I take the opportunity to reach once more for my blade, this time successfully. Glancing up ahead, I see fewer trees and seizing what may be my last chance, I drive the blade into the creature's neck.

With a grating sound, the blade glances off the hard scales. With a grunt, I swing the blade up from underneath, sliding into the gap between scales, and with all the force I can muster, I sink the dagger hilt-deep in the beast's flesh. Before the animal can react, I've withdrawn the blade and plunged it again, praying I'll hit a vital vein or nerve.

Again I drive the knife into flesh, and again, and then we've reached the point where the brush clears and the trees begin to thin. Once more I stab and finally I am rewarded to see the thick, dark liquid gush from the beast's neck. The Bilgesnipe bellows and staggers as its front legs give out. Not bailing from my position in time, I go down with the beast, pinning me between it and the ground.

Try as I may, I can't free myself no matter how I wriggle, and am still stuck when Thor catches up a moment later. With one easy tug, Thor sends the Bilgesnipe flying and I leap to my feet, shaking out my limbs as I check for injuries.

"That was incredi – you are injured," Thor says, and by his face, whatever injury he's noticed is severe enough to be cause for concern. "You've lost blood, lots of it."

I look down at my bloodied garb and immediately understand his concern. "It's not mine," I say, nodding my head towards the beast a few feet away, by way of explanation.

"Well if you're alright, we should make our way back to the path," Thor says. "If we don't reach the castle before dawn we have no hope of moving undetected."

"I don't think we have to worry about that," I say, looking just ahead and realizing exactly what we've stumbled upon. Not twenty feet from where we stand, the treeline ends, giving way to a clearing and beyond that, the rocky peaks are barely visible. I take a step towards it, not bothering to turn back as I toss words over my shoulder.

"We're practically there."


End file.
